NB 


B  M  5<)a  7A1 


TALKS  ON  SCULPTURE 


BY- 


LORADO   TAFT 


Published  by  P.  P.  CAPRONI  &  BRO..  Boston 

1906 


Wrp 


Copyright.    1907 

By  P.  P.  Caproni  &  Bro.,  Boston 

All  rights  reserved 


THE  BARTA  PRESS.  BOSTON 


Introduction 


SCHOOLROOM  decoration  —  the  creation  of  a  beautiful  environment 
which  will  silently  cooperate  with  the  voice  of  the  teacher  in  the  mental, 
icsthetic  and  spiritual  development  of  the  children  —  is  a  movement  of 
ever-increasing  importance,  and  one  to  which  Miss  Gertrude  L.  Brinkhaus  has 
given  her  attention  since  the  beginning  of  the  year  one  thousand  nine  hundred 
five. 

At  the  close  of  the  Louisiana  Purchase  Exposition,  where  Miss  Brinkhaus 
served  as  assistant  director  for  the  Massachusetts  Educational  Exhibits,  she 
found  herself  possessed  with  the  idea  of  helping  along  schools  and  teachers 
toward  the  attainment  of  schoolroom  decoration  by  presenting  to  them  the 
beautiful  in  sculpture  —  the  masterpieces  of  the  world.  It  was  one  thing  to 
wish  to  do  and  another  to  hit  upon  a  plan  of  doing,  but  suddenly  there  came  to 
her  the  thought  that  newspapers  must  give  collections  of  sculpture  and  that  the 
schools  to  receive  the  gifts  should  be  decided  upon  by  means  of  a  voting  con- 
test. The  publisher  of  the  Boston  Herald  was  first  approached,  and  the  plan 
met  with  his  hearty  approval  and  support.  An  interesting  contest  was  the 
result. 

Next,  the  originator  was  invited  to  Washington,  D.  C,  by  the  Evening  Siar^ 
and  in  June  of  this  year  closed  a  period  of  work,  decorating  some  of  the  schools 
of  Chicago  through  the  Chicago  Record- Heraid.  Through  the  generosity  of  the 
Times-Dispatch,  the  end  of  this  year  will  see  many  schools  in  Richmond,  Va., 
beautified  by  this  same  plan,  under  Miss  Brinkhaus's  personal  direction. 

In  pursuing  her  work.  Miss  Brinkhaus  has  always  used  sculpture,  not  because 
she  does  not  believe  in  pictures,  but  because  she  believes  in  teaching  the  child 
the  beautiful  in  form.  Commenting  on  the  plan,  one  of  the  members  of  the 
Chicago  Board  of  Education,  a  lady  who  had  made  a  special  study  of  art  in  the 
best  schools  of  Europe,  said:  **The  presence  and  the  study  of  sculpture  in 
the  schools,  not  only  develops  the  artistic  sense  of  the  pupils  and  refines  their 
ideals  and  instmcts,  but  also  has  a  power  to  impart  psychologic  insight.  When  I 
was  in  the  Paris  schools,  we  were  impressed  with  the  fact  that  the  expression  of 
character  was  the  first  and  most  important  thing  in  the  study  of  sculpture.  In 
gazing  on  the  outlines  of  the  sculptured  face  the  young  child  gradually  grows 
into  an  understanding  of  the  emotions  which  are  there  given  form,  and  thus 
learns  a  valuable  lesson  in  the  reading  of  human  character." 

The  following  is  an  abstract  from  a  letter  received  by  the  Chicago  Record- 
Herald  from  a  well-known  person  in  Chicago. 

•*  Aside  from  the  great  historical  value,  there  is  another  value  still  greater  — 
those  weary,  overworked  young  minds,  taxed  to  their  very  utmost  in  the  com- 


prehension  of  dull  studies  (for  many  seem  dull  to  the  struggling  young  mind) 
all  rise  as  though  one,  and  with  an  actual  cry  of  joy,  seize  a  study  they  can 
grasp,  for  its  beauty  has  entered  through  their  eyesight,  and  not  through  weary 
words  coming  to  tired  brains. 

And  its  mission  will  be  proven  in  the  child's  later  work.  At  last  they  know 
why  many  studies  must  be  mastered  if  they  ever  are  to  be  proficient  in  one. 

The  child  who  has  grasped  the  mathematics  and  grammar  of  art  can  never 
degenerate  from  the  principles  of  truth  and  sincerity  in  his  own  life's  work,  no 
matter  what  work  it  is." 

In  connection  with  the  many  weeks  of  work  in  Chicago,  Miss  Brinkhaus  had 
the  good  fortune  to  persuade  Lorado  Taft,  Chicago's  most  distinguished  sculp- 
tor, to  write  a  series  of  articles  on  sculpture.  He  was  asked  to  write  them  in  a 
way  interesting  for  children,  not  above  their  heads,  and  yet  old  enough  for  the 
"grown-ups."  Mr.  Taft  was  given  a  list  of  fifty  6r  more  subjects  of  the  casts 
given  by  the  Chicago  Record-Herald  to  the  schools  of  Chicago.  Pressure  of  work 
did  not  permit  him  to  write  more  than  twenty-five  articles,  and  these  appeared 
from  time  to  time  in  the  Chicago  Record- Herald,  earning  the  well-deserved 
praise  of  old  and  young. 

So  clever  and  interesting  were  the  "Talks  on  Sculpture,"  that  it  became  the 
ambition  of  Miss  Brinkhaus  to  publish  them  in  pamphlet  form  in  order  that  they 
might  be  distributed  among  the  teachers  of  the  country. 

The  articles  are  here  reproduced  by  permission  of  the  Chicago  Record-Herald, 
and  the  subjects  touched  upon  are  among  those  given  by  that  paper  to  the 
schools  of  Chicago. 

As  the  casts  were  furnished  by  the  firm  of  P.  P.  Caproni  and  Brother,  they 
take  pleasure  in  publishing  this  little  pamphlet,  which  contains  also  a  few  illus- 
trations of  well-decorated  schoolrooms. 

P.  P.  CAPRONI  &  BRO. 

Boston 

1906 


A  catalogue,  illustrating  over  one 
thousand  subjects  of  sculpture,  will 
be  sent  on  receipt  of  twenty-five  cents. 
Any  information  to  prospective 
purchasers  will  be  gladly  furnished. 


[4] 


UNIVE 

Of 


HAVE  you  ever  seen  the  little  wooden 
"Schoolmaster,"  as  we  shall  call  him, 
in  an  Art  Institute?  Well,  now,  he 
is  worth  going  to  see.  To  be  sure,  he  is  in 
no  sense  a  novelty,  having  first  seen  light 
some  five  thousand  years  ago,  and  while  we 
are  at  it  we  may  as  well  confess  also  that  he  is 
neither  a  schoolmaster  nor  of  wood.  He  is 
only  a  plaster  cast,  made  from  the  wooden 
original  and  colored  to  look  like  it ;  a  little, 
fat  man,  with  plump  face  and  holding  a  stick 
in  his  right  hand.  It  is  this  latter  feature 
which  has  given  him  the  pet  name  of  "  The 
Schoolmaster."  His  costume  is  rather  old- 
fashioned,  and  not  very  elaborate,  but  that 
moon-face  of  his  is  all  right.  The  most  skil- 
ful sculptors  of  later  times  could  hardly  have 
made  a  more  speaking  likeness.  The  queer 
thing  about  it  is  that  this  little  figure  is  not 
only  so  good  in  workmanship,  but  it  is  just 
about  the  earliest  Egyptian  sculpture  that  we 
know.  It  looks  as  if  they  began  pretty  near 
the  top,  those  old  pyramid-builders  and 
mummy-makers,  and  then  spent  a  few  thou- 
sand years  in  forgetting  how  ! 

Sober  second  thought  will  convince  us, 
however,  that  the  Egyptians  must  have 
carved  many  a  figure  before  they  learned  to 
do  as  truthful  work  as  this,  and  further  inves- 
tigation will  show  us  that  they  produced  many 
other  interesting  sculptures,  even  in  their 
later  periods.  I  shall  not  ask  you  to  admire 
cat-headed  figures  of  women,  nor  stifF-limbed 
men  with  eagles'  or  hawks'  heads  on  them. 
There  are  thousands  of  these  grotesque  crea- 
tures which  symbolized  purity  and  strength 
and  all  sorts  of  virtues  to  the  Egyptians,  but 
which  mean  little  enough  to  us.  We  hurry  by 
them  in  the  museums,  and  feel  much  more  at 
home  with  the  mummies.  But  some  of  those 
strange  sculptures  must  have  been  tremen- 
dously impressive  in  the  twilight  of  the  old 
temples.  Possibly  anything  more  realistic 
would  have  been  far  less  effective.  The  very 
rigidity  of  the  poses  of  gigantic  statues  like 
columns  one  after  another,  dimly  outlined, 
the  square-bent  knees  of  seated  figures,  seated 
for  all  time  and  looking  into  endless  space  — 
do  you  know,  those  dream-creations  of  the 
mi.sty  past  become  fascinating  as  you  study 
them  in  their  proper  environment !  They 
have  a  mighty  appeal ;  they  fairly  hypno- 
tize you.  Did  any  man  ever  stand  in  the 
presence  of  the  great  sphinx  and  escape  its 
spell  ?  You  feel  with  Napoleon  that  the  cen- 
turies are  there  looking  down  upon  you  and 
—  sizing  you  up. 

The  sphinx  was  famed  in  old-time  legends 
for  its  annoying  questions.     It  added  to  its 


riddles  as  th^  years  went  by  until  to-day  its 
very  significance  is  mystery.  We  shall  never 
know  what  the  serene-faced  monsiter  meant 
to  the  men  who  created  it.  We  only  know 
that  they  repeated  it  over  and  over  with  a 
devotion  which  seems  to  us  worthy  of  a  bet- 
ter cause.  In  times  of  activity,  in  times  of 
depression,  they  made  sphinxes;  when  in 
doubt  they  made  more  sphinxes.  On  the 
site  of  ancient  Thebes  there  is  a  royal  high- 
way about  a  mile  and  a  half  long,  extending 
from  the  temple  of  Karnak  to  that  of  Luxor. 
On  either  side  of  the  road  at  intervals  of 
about  fourteen  feet  are  stone  sphinxes  as  big 


The  Sphinx 

as  horses ;  it  is  estimated  that  there  were 
about  one  thousand  of  them.  The  body  was 
always  that  of  a  lion,  but  the  heads  in  this 
case  were  those  of  rams.  Just  why  this  inno- 
vation was  made  is  quite  as  mysterious  as  why 
the  sphinx  at  all.  but  we  are  glad  that  it  was 
not  generally  adopted.  The  sphinx  with  the 
woman's  head  is  much  better  suited  to  our 
modern  taste.  It  is  a  surpri.se,  however,  to 
discover  what  a  personal  appealing  counte- 
nance the  Egyptians  .sometimes  gave  even  to 
these  symbolistic  sculptures.  The  face  shown 
in  our  illustration  is  as  sweet  and  full  of  life 
as  that  of  any  rosy-cheeked  .schoolgirl  of 
to-day.  With  its  piquant  nose,  its  smiling 
lips,  and  the  little  touch  of  pathos  in  the  eye- 
brows, it  oflfers  as  charming  an  expres.sion  as 
one  could  wi.sh.  It  would  be  interesting  to 
change  the  attire  and  see  if  she  would  not 
make  a  nice  American  girl.  But  whether  it 
be  veiled  with  the  sacred  head-dress  of  Ej^ypt 
or  crowned  by  a  modern  "Tarn,"  there  is  in 
every  smiling  woman's  face  a  glimjwe  of  the 
eternal  mystery  of  life  ;  a  hint  of  the  riddle  of 
the  sphinx. 


[5] 


11. 


IT  is  a  journey  of  many  thousand  miles  from 
our  country  to  the  sites  of  old-time  Baby- 
lon and  Nineveh.  Many  weary  years  have 
been  spun  from  the  distaff  of  Time  since  those 
' '  exceeding  great  cities  ' '  battled  with  one 
another  and  took  turns  in  ruling  the  world  of 
men.  Greater,  however,  than  the  space  which 
separates  them  from  our  much-alive  land  is 
the  difference  between  the  two  civilizations 
which  they  represent.  On  the  globe  we  are 
some  degrees  from  Nineveh,  but  we  are  quite 
at  the  antipodes  as  far  as  life  and  thought  are 
concerned.  It  seems  as  if  we  could  have  noth- 
ing in  common  with  that  proud,  cruel,  con- 
quering race.  However,  better  acquaintance 
brings  people  together.  Some  one  has  writ- 
ten, "To  know  is  to  understand,"  and  an- 
other kindly  soul  has  said,  ' '  You  cannot  hate 
a  man  when  you  know  him  well."  So  it  may 
be  that  even  the  old-time  Assyrians  are  worthy 
of  our  attention.  They  were  not  so  very  differ- 


It  was  in  the  year  668  b.  c.  that  the  King 
Assur-bani-pal,  the  grandson  of  old  Sennache- 
rib, came  to  the  throne  and  at  once  set  his 
thousands  of  masons  and  artisans  to  building 
the  grand  new  palace  which  was  to  mark  his 
glorious  reign.  Quite  unconscious  and  un- 
warned that  his  family  was  soon  to  be  de- 
throned and  that  his  great  city  was  doomed 
to  become  the  prey  of  a  new  Babylon,  he 
urged  his  architects  to  design  him  a  house 
that  should  rival  in  extent  and  splendor  all 
the  costly  palaces  that  his  ancestors  had  scat- 
tered over  the  country. 

Especially  must  these  new  halls  be  made 
magnificent  with  endless  sculptures  telling 
the  story  of  the  king's  mighty  achievements. 
They  were  to  form  an  epic  poem  celebrating 
the  glories  and  prowess  of  the  monarch  builder, 
a  poem  that  might  be  added  to  as  the  \ears 
went  by.  We  know  that  the  reliefs  in  the 
palace  which   King   Sargon   built  fifty   years 


Assyrian  Lion  Hunt 


ent,  after  all,  from  the  ancient  Jews,  whose 
history  we  study  so  carefully.  The  children 
of  Israel  have  sent  us  a  message  through  their 
noble  literature,  their  songs  and  proverbs 
and  prophesies.  Let  us  allow  the  Assyrians 
to  tell  us  something  of  themselves  through 
their  .sculptures,  which  record  many  a  tale  of 
prowess. 

It  was  the  ambition  of  every  Oriental  king 
to  build  at  least  one  great  palace,  which  should 
be  both  a  home  and  a  monument  to  his  fame. 
The  walls  of  these  enormous  structures  of 
sun-dried  bricks  were  covered  with  reliefs 
marvelously  carved  in  alabaster.  The  As- 
syrians had  no  quarries  of  marble  and  their 
statues  were  few,  but  thin  .slabs  of  alabaster 
were  to  be  had  in  abundance,  and  so  this  art 
of  low-relief  was  much  practised.  For  two 
centuries  or  more  the  .sculptors  of  Nineveh 
had  been  learning  how  to  do  it.  Their  figures 
of  men  were  never  first  class.  They  always 
showed  them  well  wrapped  in  heavy  draperies 
with  much  fringe  and  embroidery,  all  carved 
with  greatest  care,  but  they  seemed  to  take 
especial  delight  in  chiseling  fiery  horses  and 
ferocious  lions. 


earlier  made  a  frieze  a  mile  and  a  half  long. 
It  is  from  this  picture-story,  this  carved  his- 
tory, that  our  illustration  is  selected. 

King  Assur-bani-pal  evidently  enjoyed  hunt- 
ing as  much  as  does  President  Roosevelt,  and 
while  he  wrote  no  books  upon  the  subject  he 
evidently  charged  the  court  sculptor  to  give 
the  sport  full  place  upon  the  palace  walls.  And 
you  may  be  sure  that  the  .sculptor  was  not 
slow  to  do  so.  He  was  tired  of  carving  gar- 
dens and  banquets  and  armies  and  prisoners  ; 
here  was  something  that  he  could  do  with 
enthusiasm.  What  power  and  "go"  he  has 
put  into  tho.se  horses  !  What  vigor  in  those 
springing  lions ! 

There  are  animals  among  these  hunting 
scenes  that  have  never  been  surpassed  by 
.sculptors  of  any  age  or  country  ;  a  dying 
lioness  pierced  with  several  arrows,  a  num- 
ber of  dogs  in  leash  tugging  with  all  their 
might,  and  some  horses'  heads,  which  though 
half-hidden  with  trappings  seem  fairly  to 
breathe  fire  from  their  distended  nostrils. 
These  are  Assyria's  great  contribution  to  the 
world's  treasures  of  sculpture. 


[6] 


m. 


IT  was  in  the  very  busy  city  of  Athens  and 
the  clock  of  ages  had  just  struck  450  b.  c. 
—  only  nobody  knew  that  it  was  **  b.  c." 
nor  heard  the  strokes  —  when  the  leading  citi- 
zens got  together  and  decided  that  it  was  high 
time  something  should  be  done  about  that 
long-promised  temple  to  Athena  on  the  Acrop- 
olis. Thirty  years  had  passed  since  the  Per- 
sians, well-whipi)ed,  had  taken  their  broken- 
winged  flight  homeward,  and  for  thirty  years 
the  blackened  ruins  of  Athena's  old  temple 
had  stood  there  ui>on  the  great  rock  far  above 
the  city,  a  monument  to  the  horrors  of  those 
barbaric  invasions  ;  an  appeal  for  new  acts  of 
patriotism.  The  well-beloved  goddess  had  by 
no  means  been  forgotten,     Phidias,  the  sculp- 


And  now  they  are  gathered  together  to  plan 
their  masterpiece.  The  "great  walls"  are 
finished  ;  the  defen.ses  of  Athens  are  complete. 
Pericles,  the  clear-headed,  far-seeing  leader, 
feels  that  the  time  is  riije  to  make  their  dear 
city  a  worthy  capital  of  the  new  state  which 
he  is  developing.  He  is  ready  at  last  for  the 
undertaking  which  they  have  so  often  di.s- 
cussed  —  the  crowning  of  the  sacred  Acropolis 
with  a  temple  and  approaches  befitting  the 
dignity  of  their  patron  saint,  the  glorious, 
blue-eyed,  warrior-maid  whose  protecting 
shield  had  guarded  Athens  so  well. 

Three  years  were  to  pass  before  the  actual 
building  should  begin,  but  those  were  busy, 
happy  years  for  '*  Ictinos  &  Kallicrales,  archi- 


Portion  of  the  Western  Frieze  of  Parthenon 


tor,  had  already  erected  to  her  honor  a  mighty 
statue  which  towered  above  those  ruins  and 
could  be  seen  by  home-faring  mariners  far  out 
on  the  blue  .^gean,  but  her  house  was  still 
lacking. 

The  heroes  of  the  Marathon  and  Salamis 
were  mostly  gone  and  a  new  generation  of 
Athenians  trod  the  winding  streets  of  the 
rebuilt  city.  The.se  men  of  Athens  in  their 
beautiful,  picturesque  garments  were  differ- 
ent from  those  of  all  other  lands.  They  com- 
bined in  their  make-up  the  dignity  of  the 
Orientals  with  an  animation  like  that  of  the 
modern  Frenchmen,  and  they  were  the  most 
brilliant  and  artistic  people  that  the  world  had 
ever  seen.  The  beautiful  things  which  they 
created  at  this  period  are  the  treasures  of 
civilization  ;  the  heritage  of  all  who  enjoy 
gjeat  literature  and  great  art. 


tects,"  and  for  Phidias,  who  was  to  look  after 
all  the  sculptural  decorations  of  the  edifice, 
besides  creating  another  giant  .statue  of  Athena 
to  be  placed  within  the  temple.  This  figure 
was  to  be  no  less  than  thirty-eight  feet  high, 
and  of  gold  and  ivory,  as  rich  and  magnificent 
as  pos.sible.  That  Phidias  was  the  man  to  do 
it  was  certain,  for  he  had  already  made  a  simi- 
lar colossus  for  the  temple  at  Olympia,  a  won- 
derful seated  figure  of  Zeus  that  was  fame<l 
throughout  all  the  old  world. 

Both  of  these  splendid  statues  were  broken 
up  by  robbers  ages  ago,  so  we  will  talk  of  them 
no  more. 

However,  there  are  many  fine  fragments  of 
the  marble  sculptures  left,  and  our  illustration 
shows  one  of  these ;  a  .section  of  the  famous 
frieze  of  the  Parthenon. 


[7] 


IV. 


THE  Greek  temple  was  very  simple  in 
design,  just  a  big  stone  box  —  called  the 
cella  —  with  a  porch  running  entirely 
around  it.  The  extended  roof  was  supported 
by  great  columns,  forming  majestic  colon- 
nades. The  two  "  gable-ends  "  of  the  building 
were  filled  with  sculptures  illustrating,  in  the 
case  of  the  Parthenon,  two  great  events  in 
the  life  of  Athena.  Then  there  was  usually  a 
frieze  made  up  of  a  great  many  panels  filled 
with  struggling  figures.  These  were  next  to 
the  cornice,  right  under  the  eaves  of  the 
building. 

One  can  almost  hear  Phidias  describing  the 
beauties  of  all  these  things  as  he  sees  them  in 
imagination. 


' '  But  can  it  be  seen  up  there  nearly  forty 
feet  from  the  ground  ? ' ' 

' '  Trust  my  boys, ' '  says  Phidias,  ' '  to  carve 
and  color  that  frieze  so  that  it  may  be  seen. 
Think  of  it  when  the  level  rays  of  the  morning 
and  evening  sunlight  cut  across  its  length  ;  it 
will  fairly  sing.  And  at  noon  the  light  will  be 
reflected  up  from  the  pavement  and  bathe  it  in 
richness  and  wonderful  unexpected  effects." 

Ictinos  had  been  figuring  a  little.  "Five 
hundred  and  twenty  feet  I  make  it.  That  is  a 
pretty  big  undertaking  along  with  the  rest. 
It  would  need  to  be  at  least  four  feet  high." 

"And  what  subject  could  you  pull  out  to 
that  length?"  interrupts  Pericles,  much  in- 
terested   but    rather    skeptical.       "You    are 


Portion  of  the  Northern  Frieze  of  Parthenon 


"Why,"  says  he,  "the  temple  at  Olympia 
will  not  be  mentioned  in  the  same  breath  with 
ours.  I  know  that  we  can  improve  on  its 
sculptures  as  much  as  they  surpass  those 
weazened  things  at  ^gina." 

' '  Good, ' '  answers  Pericles,  ' '  I  have  all  con- 
fidence in  you  and  your  skill.  The  eastern 
pediment  then  shall  show  'The  Birth  of 
Athena'  and  the  western  'Athena's  Contest 
with  Poseidon,'  and  there  are  ninety-two  of 
the  metopes  which  you  will  apportion  to  the 
best  artists  available.  That  provides  for  the 
sculpture " 

"  But  I  am  not  through  yet,"  cries  Phidias. 
'  *  I  want  a  second  frieze  all  around  the  cella 
wall." 

"  Outside,  or  in?  " 

"Outside,  of  course,  where  it  can  be  seen. 
My  Athena  will  furnish  and  decorate  the 
interior." 


going  to  use  up  the  Centaur  story  on  the 
metopes,  and  the  Amazons  and  the  Giants." 

"  I  have  something  better  than  all  these," 
is  the  reply  of  the  great  sculptor.  ' '  Let  me 
make  a  procession  —  the  Panathenaic  proces- 
sion —  and  show  our  people  gathering  here  to 
celebrate  Our  Lady.  I'll  show  our  noble  old 
men  with  their  snowy  beards,  our  beautiful 
maidens,  in  stately  array,  the  sacrificial  ani- 
mals and  those  who  bear  offerings.  Then 
the  greater  part  of  the  space  I  would  fill  with 
the  cavalcade  of  young  men  hurrying  to 
the  festival.  .  I  see  them  now,  cantering 
along  in  perfect  rhythm,  a  dream  of  beauti- 
ful lines." 

It  was  done  as  the  great  artist  desired. 
Either  he  or  trusted  assistants  traced  the 
wonderful  poem  in  marble  which  was  to  en- 
circle the  Parthenon  and  of  which  our  illustra- 
tion g^ves  us  a  brief  stanza. 


[8] 


V. 


THE  Parthenon  faced  the  east,  but  was 
first  seen  from  the  west  as  the  visitor 
reached  the  level  of  the  AcroiK)lis.  The 
usual  course  was  along  the  north  wall  to  the 
entrance  on  the  east.  The  desijiner  had 
the  ingenuity  to  start  the  procession  from 
the  southwest  corner,  and  let  it  run  in  both 
directions,  to  meet  over  the  eastern  portal. 
The  frieze  on  the  west  end  was  made  up  of 
the  gathering  people  on  foot  and  horseback, 
all  in  active  preparation.  A  marshal  stands 
at  either  end,  right  at  the  corner  of  the  build- 
ing, and  this  quiet  figure  takes  away  all 
suggestion  of  the  horses  plunging  madly  out 
into  space. 

When  we  turn  the  corner  the  procession  is 
seen  to  be  moving  off  quite  briskly  \\nth  only 


the  pity  —  but  enough  are  intact  to  show  vm 
how  beautiful  must  have  been  this  ixirtion  of 
the  frieze.  They  are  met  by  the  magistrates 
of  the  city,  who  lean  upon  their  sticks  and 
welcome  them. 

Now  comes  an  unexi)ected  interruption. 
As  all  this  ceremonial  must  be  for  some  object, 
so  the  procession  must  lead  to  some  definite 
thing,  and  we  find  most  of  the  eastern  frieze 
devoted  to  a  gathering  of  the  gods  who  have 
assembled  to  receive  the  homage  of  the  mor- 
tals. The.se  figures  are  somewhat  larger,  and 
all  are  seated  on  chairs  or  thrones.  In  the 
very  center  are  a  number  of  priests  and  at- 
tendants of  the  same  scale  as  the  |)e<)ple  of 
the  proce-ssion.  They  look  as  though  they 
were  in  parentheses ! 


Portion  of  the  Eastern  Frieze  of  ParthenoD 


a  little  more  tightening  up  of  belts.  And  now 
as  the  sculptor  wishes  to  suggest  more  rapid 
movement  he  increa.ses  the  number  of  horses 
abreast ;  the  legs  become  a  tangle  and  give 
the  effect  of  horses  running.  In  the  midst  of 
this  group  of  magnificent  chargers  there  rides 
some  officer  alone.  His  head,  alas,  is  gone, 
but  we  can  see  that  it  was  turned  back  to  call 
upon  those  behind  to  clo.se  up  the  ranks.  This 
device  adds  further  to  the  illu-sion  of  speed. 
So  on  and  on  they  canter,  the  horses  thro\ving 
their  heads  high  in  the  air,  their  noble  riders 
sitting  so  steadily  ;  fine  fellows  all. 

As  we  approach  the  eastern  end  of  the  build- 
ing the  horsemen  give  way  to  chariots  with 
armed  riders.  In  front  of  these  march  a  group 
of  men  bearing  great  jugs  upon  their  .shoulders, 
gifts  of  wine.  Then  follow  those  radiant 
Athenian  maidens  in  their  exquisite  costume. 
Most  of  them  have  lost  their  heads  —  more's 


On  one  side  of  this  central  group  sits  Zeus, 
the  king  of  all  the  gods.  OpjxMiite  him  in  the 
other  place  of  honor  is  Athena.  Next  to  Zeus 
is  his  wife  Hera,  lifting  her  veil  so  that  none 
but  he  may  see  her  face.  Then  follow  various 
minor  div^inities.  At  Athena's  side  is  lame 
Hephaistos,  whom  we  call  Vulcan,  then  prob- 
ably Neptune,  Bacchus,  etc.  The  Greeks  did 
not  use  these  names,  but  we  understand  them 
better. 

Most  of  these  reliefs  have  suffered  greatly. 
Storms  and  mishaps  of  all  kinds  have  worn 
them  away,  but  there  is  one  slab  which  was 
wonderfully  well  preser\*ed.  It  dropjied  out 
and  happened  to  fall  face  down  in  the  rubbi.sh. 
For  many  years  it  .served  as  a  i)aving-stone, 
but  it  was  the  back  and  not  the  })recious 
carving  which  careless  feet  trod  upon ;  the 
gods  were  saved  I  To-day  that  paving-stone 
is  worth  its  weight  in  gold. 


[9] 


VI. 


UNHAPPY  times  came  upon  fair  Athens 
soon  after  the  dedication  of  the  Parthe- 
non. Jealous  Sparta  aroused  the  South 
to  insurrection,  and  a  long-drawn-out  war 
weakened  the  proud  city.  In  the  midst  of  it 
came  a  great  plague  which  carried  off  many 
of  the  inhabitants,  sparing  no  one  because  of 
his  prominence  or  usefulness.  Pericles  him- 
self surrendered  to  this  new  enemy. 

But  through  all  these  woes  the  Athenians 
cherished  their  ideas  and  continued  to  build 


Nike  Untying  Sandals 

temples  to  their  beloved  goddess.  Two  struc- 
tures of  this  period — the  last  quarter  of  the 
fifth  century,  b.  c.  —  while  not  large,  are 
among  the  most  artistic  buildings  in  the  world. 
Both  are  upon  the  Acropolis.  The  larger  was 
the  Erechtheum,  famed  for  its  Porch  of  the 
Maidens,  whose  eight  sturdy  figures  of  young 
women  are  used  as  columns  to  support  the 
roof.  They  are  so  strong  and  adequate,  they 
carry  their  burden  with  such  ease,  that  there 
is  no  appeal  for  pity.  We  feel  that  they  were 
made  for  this  purpo.se  and  that  they  enjoy  it. 
Architectural  sculpture  has  nothing  to  offer, 


the  whole  world  over,  more  beautiful  th.an  the 
caryatids  of  the  Erechtheum. 

The  other  building  was  made  notable  like- 
wise through  its  sculpture.  It  is  a  little  temple 
to  Athena  the  Victress,  sometimes  called  the 
Temple  of  the  Wingless  Victory.  Only  eigh- 
teen by  twenty-seven  feet  in  dimensions,  and 
situated  upon  a  lower  level  of  the  Acropolis, 
it  would  attract  no  attention  were  it  not  for 
the  beax:ty  of  its  elaborate  frieze  and  more 
especially  the  grace  and  charm  of  the  balus- 
trade which  partially  surrounded  the  structure. 
Perhaps  this  low  parapet  was  necessary  to 
keep  the  Athenian  children  from  falling  over 
the  edge  of  the  narrow  shelf  of  rock  upon 
which  the  temple  was  built,  but  we  have  other 
reasons  for  taking  a  friendly  interest  in  it. 

Never  has  another  such  balustrade  been 
seen  in  this  world  !  It  was  made  up  of  reliefs 
of  little  Victories,  winged  figures  in  the  most 
graceful  attitudes.  Many  of  these  precious 
little  creatures  have  been  lost  —  for  Time  and 
the  Turks  have  destroyed  ruthlessly  —  but  we 
possess  one  at  least  (see  illustration)  which 
has  suffered  little.  She  is  so  perfect  in  grace 
of  pose  and  of  flowing  drapery  that  we  scarcely 
miss  her  head  at  all. 

Some  of  these  tiny  ladies  were  engaged  in 
leading  oxen  to  sacrifice,  others  in  carrying 
offerings,  but  this  one  has  nothing  more  im- 
portant to  do  than  fastening  her  sandal.  Her 
position  may  not  explain  itself  at  first  sight. 
One  little  girl  thought  that  she  was  "hop- 
ping," but  the  fact  is  that  her  right  foot 
rested  upon  a  stone  which  has  since  been 
broken  away  with  the  corner  of  the  relief. 
Thus  the  pose  is  seen  to  be  perfectly  natural 
and  as  beautiful  as  the  carving  itself. 

It  was  always  a  problem  with  the  Greek 
sculptor  to  fill  his  given  space  adequately  yet 
without  "lugging  in  things."  Can  you 
imagine  a  panel  of  this  shape  filled  more 
gracefully  than  it  is  here  ?  I  will  venture  to 
say  that  there  is  not  another  relief  in  the 
world  more  exquisite  in  its  play  of  lights  and 
shadows  than  this  rare  little  Nike  of  the 
balustrade. 


[101 


VII. 


"X  Tt)THING  could  be  more  characteristic 
I  ^  of  Greek  "reserve  "  than  the  treatment 
"*■  ^  of  the  relief  which  we  show  here.  Its 
theme  is  one  of  the  tenderest  of  ancient  leg- 
ends, the  story  of  Orpheus  and  Eurydice,  a 
tale  whose  sweet  pathos  has  appealed  to  men 
of  every  language  and  of  every  time. 

Orpheus  was  a  mortal,  gifted  with  super- 
natural powers  as  a  mu.sician.  With  his  lyre 
he  could  tame  the  most  ferocious  animals,  and 
even  the  rocks  and  trees  would  dance  at  the 
sound  of  his  magic  instrument.  His  skill  was 
his  ruin,  however,  for  it  won  the  undying  en- 
mity of  Apollo,  who  was  "something  of  a 
musician  himself,"  and  the  irate  god  struck 
his  victim  in  the  tenderest  spot.  He  tore 
fair  Eurydice  from  the  arms  of  her  loving 
husband  and  confined  her  in  the  gray  land  of 
shadows.  Orpheus  wandered  inconsolable  for 
many  days,  but  finally  learned  where  his  treas- 
ure was  imprisoned.  By  means  of  his  art  he 
passed  fierce  Cerberus,  the  three-headed  watch- 
dog of  Hades,  and  such  was  the  persuasive 
magic  of  his  lyre  that  King  Pluto  finally  con- 
sented to  his  leading  forth  his  long-lost  com- 
panion. 

There  was  one  condition.  He  must  not  look 
upon  his  wife's  face  until  they  should  arrive  in 
the  upi>er  world  of  sunlight.  With  exultant 
heart,  the  happy  man  retraced  his  groping 
way  until  suspicions  seized  him.  Could  it  be 
that  this  silent  shadow  which  followed  him  so 
closely  was  in  truth  his  beloved  Eurydice  ? 
Or  was  he  being  tricked  by  the  powers  of  dark- 
ness? Just  as  they  emerged  into  the  light  his 
resolution  forsook  him.  He  turned,  and  —  she 
was  gone.  Hermes,  the  messenger  god,  had 
once  more  laid  his  inexorable  hand  upon  her. 

The  sculptor  of  this  beautiful  relief  is  un- 
known, but  as  the  style  is  that  of  the  Parthe- 
non frieze,  we  may  believe  him  to  have  been 
of  the  time  of  Phidias,  or  a  little  later.  That 
he  was  a  true  artist  and  a  master  of  the  diffi- 
cult problems  of  low-relief  is  proved  by  this 
one  work.     It  is  worth  living  to  have  done  a 


.single  thing  as  perfect  a.s  this.  With  true 
poetic  in.stinct,  the  artist  has  allowed  the  fond 
lovers  a  moment  of  parting,  while  Hermes 
waits  patiently  and  sympathetically.  But  no- 
tice that  in  this  sui)reme  moment  there  are  no 
hysterics ;  no  paroxysms  of  grief. 

There  is  dignity  in  all  Greek  .sculpture  of 
this  period.      "In  all   things  avoid  the  too 


-?  V 


Orpheus.  Eurydice.  and  Hermes 

much ' '  was  their  motto,  and  their  art  was 
great  becau.se  of  this  moderation. 

It  is  so  easy  to  overdo  the  dramatic —  as  in 
later  periods  of  art  when  the  emotions  became 
grotesque  —  but  even  the  great  tombstones 
are  masterpieces  of  dignity  and  reserve.  Our 
ancestors  u.sed  to  festoon  their  monuments 
with  sculptured  skulls  and  crossbones,  and 
fairly  reveled  in  the  horrors  of  death  and  de- 
cay. The  Greeks  marked  their  graves  with 
gentle  farewells  like  this,  or  pictured  family 
gatherings  where  the  loved  one  is  shown  pre- 
paring for  a  journey.  The  very  self-control 
of  these  touching  tributes  grips  fast  the  heart. 


[in 


VIII. 


PHIDIAS  and  Polycleitos,  the  great  sculp- 
tors of  the  fifth  century  b.  c,  were  suc- 
r^^_—  ceeded  by  Praxiteles  and  Skopas.  The 
growing  tendency  toward  refinement  and  per- 
fection of  skill  is  illustrated  in  their  work. 
Praxiteles  chooses  subjects  very  different 
from  those  which  delighted  Phidias.  The 
days  of  monumental  grandeur  are  past.  The 
later  man  represents  the  gods,  to  be  sure,  but 
he  selects  the  subordinate,  more  human  divin- 
ities, and  pictures  them  with  a  less  reverent 
touch. 


Hermes  of  Praxiteles 

There  is  an  air  of  easy  familiarity  in  his 
approach.  His  first  object  seems  to  be  the 
expression  of  geniality  and  grace.  Only  one 
original  from  his  hand  remains,  but  we  trace 
his  style  in  many  copies  and  adaptations.  We 
know  that  he  was  celebrated  for  his  statues 
of  Aphrodite  (Venus)  and  Eros  (Cupid). 
Indeed,  it  has  been  said  of  him  that  ' '  when- 
ever he  put  his  chisel  to  the  stone  the  little 
god  of  love  was  peeping  over  his  shoulder." 

Pau.sanias,  who  traveled  in  Greece  in  the 
second  century  a.  d.,  tells  us  that  he  saw  in  the 
Hera  Temple  at  Olympia  ' '  a  Hermes  of  stone 
carrying  the  young  Dionysos  ;  it  was  made  by 


Praxiteles."  In  1877  a  party  of  German 
archaeologists  made  a  careful  surve}^  and  did 
much  excavating  at  Olympia.  They  revealed 
the  foundations  of  the  two  principal  temples, 
but  found  few  remains  of  value.  The  sacred 
city  had  too  long  been  a  shining  mark  for  the 
Roman  robbers.  The  students  were  preparing 
to  leave,  somewhat  disappointed  at  their 
small  harvest,  when  one  of  the  number  pro- 
posed to  turn  a  few  more  shovels  of  dirt  within 
the  inclosure  of  the  Hera  Temple. 

Scarcely  had  they  begun  when  the  spade 
struck  a  stone  which  soon  proved  to  be  a 
statue.  And  such  a  statue  !  With  the  great- 
est care  it  was  freed  from  the  soil  which  had 
been  its  bed  and  protection  through  so  many 
centuries,  and  gradually  its  beautiful  form 
emerged  to  the  daylight.  No  doubt  these 
happy  scholars  were  familiar  with  the  passage 
in  Pausanias,  and  recognized  the  figure  at 
once,  though  it  must  have  seemed  too  good  to 
be  true.  At  any  rate,  they  appreciated  the 
noble  workmanship  of  the  figure  —  there  is 
nothing  finer  in  existence  —  and  we  can 
imagine  that  there  was  a  great  deal  of  excited 
German  spoken  around  there  that  May  after- 
noon. 

The  legs  and  arms  were  broken,  but  the 
body  and  head  were  intact,  and  here  at  last 
was  a  Greek  statue  with  its  nose  in  good  order. 
As  fortune  would  have  it,  they  even  found  the 
baby  Dionysos  later,  used  as  a  stone  in  the 
building  of  a  wall.  Thus  the  Hermes  stands 
to-day  almost  complete  in  the  little  museum 
of  Olympia.  He  leans  comfortably  upon  a 
high  stump  over  which  he  has  thrown  his 
mantle,  and  seems  to  be  looking  with  gentle, 
dreamy  eyes  at  the  funny  baby  perched  upon 
his  left  arm.  The  grace  of  the  pose,  the  firm 
yet  softly  rounded  forms,  the  combination  of 
strength  and  gentleness  so  well  shown  in  both 
the  subject  and  the  treatment,  were  a  new 
revelation  to  the  world.  Here  at  last  was  an 
original  directly  from  the  hands  of  the  great 
master.  It  was  as  fine  as  men  had  dreamed. 
If  this  was  one  of  the  minor  works  of  Praxi- 
teles, what  must  have  been  the  beauty  of  his 
more  celebrated  achievements. 


[12] 


IX. 


IT  is  our  misfortune  that  we  know  Greek 
sculpture  mostly  through  Roman  copies. 
Some  of  these  copies  are  good  and  some 
are  very  poor,  while  often  the  original  has 
served  merely  as  a  theme  or  text  for  the  later 
sculptor.  The  dainty  little  figure  which  we 
show  here  seems  beautiful  enough  to  be  an 
original,  but  it  is  probably  a  clever  copy  of  a 
still  finer  work.  Some  think  that  the  original 
must  have  been  from  the  hand  of  Praxiteles, 
so  g^raceful  is  its  pose  and  so  sweet  its  ex- 
pression. 

The  young  lady  is  known  as  the  Artemis  (or 
Diana)  of  Gabii,  from  the  place  where  she 
was  unearthed  in  the  fateful  year  of  1792.  She 
stands  now  in  the  Museum  of  the  Louvre  in 
Paris,  one  of  the  most  charming  works  in  all 
that  vast  collection. 

As  a  rule,  Greek  statues  are  very  imper- 
sonal;  their  beauty  seems  "typical"  rather 
than  individual ;  one  does  not  think  of  them 
as  real  people.  But  here  is  a  marble  girl  that 
one  could  easily  fall  in  love  with  —  as  many  an 
art  student  has  done  in  the  past  and  many 
another  will  in  the  future  until  the  end  of 
time.  One  of  these  enthusiastic  admirers  de- 
scribes her  as  follows  : 

"  Nothing  could  be  more  graceful  than  her 
simple,  easy  pose,  the  attitude  of  a  maiden 
goddess  finishing  her  toilet.  Her  head,  turned 
to  the  right,  is  carved  with  inimitable  refine- 
ment. The  delicate,  half-parted  lips  recall 
the  praises  which  the  ancients  lavi-shly  be- 
stowed on  the  statues  of  Artemis  by  Praxi- 
teles. With  exquisite  feeling  the  artist  has 
enlivened  his  composition  by  well-chosen  bits 
of  contrast.  On  one  side  one  sees  the  rounded 
contours  of  the  raised  arm,  the  .shoulder  hid- 
den by  the  drapery,  the  straight  folds  of  the 
belted  garment,  and  the  leg  which  supports 
the  weight  of  the  body.  On  the  other  .side  the 
shoulder  is  bare,  the  arm  is  pressed  against 
the  breast,  the  heavy  folds  of  the  cloak  de- 
scend to  below  the  knee,  and  the  left  leg  is 
bent  and  set  back.  The  subtlety  of  pose  and 
movement,  combined  with  the  beautiful  con- 
ception and  perfect  execution,  make  of  the 
statue  a  work  of  supreme  charm  and  dignity.'* 

It  is  a  pleasure  to  realize  that  there  were 
women  in  those  days  beautiful  enough  to  in- 
spire such  works,  and  men  with  skill  to  carve 
them.  I  do  not  suppose  that  the  sculptor  was 
thinking  particularly  of  us  when  he  made  this 
delightful  figure,  but  we  have  inherited  the 
wealth  of  the  past,  and  I,  for  one,  am  grateful 
to  the  unknown  artist.  The  school  that  has 
the  girlish  **  Diana  at  Toilet "  has  "  a  thing 
of  beauty  and  a  joy  forever." 


This  .suggests  another  thought :  If  we  enjoy 
.so  much  the  beautiful  things  created  in  the 
olden  time,  how  much  more  ought  we  to  do 
for  those  coming  after  us.  We  consider  our- 
.selves  the  most  civilized  nation  that  ever  lived. 
We  boast  of  our  freedom  and  of  our  education, 
of  our  wealth  and  of  our  opportunities.      I 


Diana  Robing 
From  Gabii 

wonder  what  they  will  say  of  us,  a  hundred  or 
a  thoasand  years  from  now!  Will  they  be 
grateful  to  us  for  ideals  of  beauty  expressed 
in  music  and  poetry,  in  painting  and  .sculp- 
ture? Will  they  say,  **  What  a  happy,  refined 
people  they  must  have  been  ;  how  they  must 
have  enjoyed  creating  these  rare  things,  and 
how  fortunate  we  are  to  '  enter  into  their 
labors'!"  Or  will  they  say  of  us,  "They 
were  a  sordid  race,  caring  only  for  the  *  al- 
mighty dollar  '  *^  ? 
Let  us  learn  something  from  the  Greeks ! 


[13] 


X. 


ATHENA,  who  later  was  called  Minerva, 
was  the  goddess  of  education  as  well  as 
of  various  industries,  and  no  presence 
could  be  more  appropriate  within  the  walls  of 
a  schoolroom.  Of  all  the  statues  of  this 
splendid  patron  of  learning,  the  one  which  we 
picture   here   is    the   general  favorite.      This 


Minerva  Giustinismi 

stately  figure  is  called  the  Athena,  or  Minerva 
Giustiniani,  after  the  Italian  family  which 
rejoiced  in  its  possession  for  many  years. 
However,  it  has  been  counted  among  the 
treasures  of  the  Vatican  for  nearly  or  quite  a 
century. 

Even  the  wisest  of  the  critics  are  uncertain 
as  to  when  the  statue  was  made.  It  has  all 
the   dignity   of    the   earlier  period  of  Greek 


sculpture,  but  is  quite  different  from  the 
descriptions  left  us  of  the  Athena  of  the  Par- 
thenon. 

Among  those  other  ' '  industries  ' '  referred 
to  was  the  business  of  fighting,  to  which 
Athena  was  not  at  all  averse.  She  is  described 
by  Homer  as  taking  part  in  many  a  battle, 
and  there  are  numerous  sculptures  which  show 
her  in  the  thick  of  the  combat.  In  this  statue 
she  is  shown  with  her  helmet  —  which  could  be 
pulled  down  over  her  face  —  her  breastplate  of 
mail  bearing  the  dreadful  head  of  Medusa, 
and  her  formidable  spear.  That  pet  snake  of 
hers  also  looks  fairly  belligerent.  In  other 
respects,  however,  the  blue-eyed  goddess, 
wrapped  in  her  beautiful  drapery,  seems  as 
peaceful  and  quiet  as  you  please  —  a  fine  type 
of  the  watchful,  helpful  school-mistress.  It  is 
no  wonder  that  the  Athenians  loved  her  de- 
votedly ;  she  embodied  their  highest  ideals. 

The  voracious  Romans  in  their  eagerness  to 
conquer  the  whole  world  became  very  "lib- 
eral ' '  in  religious  matters.  In  fact,  we  might 
call  them  omnivorous,  for  they  swallowed  not 
only  the  nations  of  the  earth,  but  their  gods  as 
well !  There  was  room  in  the  Roman  Panth- 
eon for  them  all.  I  imagine  that  with  some 
of  those  queer  Eastern  deities  the  adoption  was 
rather  perfunctory.  Probably  Baal  and  Ptah 
and  a  host  more  of  the  shadowy  creations  of 
the  Orient  never  came  to  feel  very  much  at 
home  in  the  imperial  city,  but  the  Greek  gods 
were  greatly  honored  there,  and  under  new 
names  became  the  favorites  of  the  Romans. 

Some,  to  be  sure,  fell  to  pretty  low  estate, 
and  the  gossip  that  the  Roman  poets  wove 
about  them  would  have  scandalized  the  early 
pious  Greeks.  But  Minerva,  though  no  longer 
possessing  the  personality  and  significance 
which  the  Athenians  had  attributed  to  her, 
continued  to  claim  the  intellectual  life  and  the 
protection  of  the  fine  arts,  so  that  she  is-  still 
used  in  poetry  as  a  symbol  for  these  things,  just 
as  you  will  see  her  pictured  in  decorative  paint- 
ings and  sculptures,  with  the  same  significance. 

Another  of  Athena's  names  was  Pallas.  Do 
you  remember  how  in  ' '  The  Raven  ' '  the  bird 
of  evil  omen  perched  upon  the  bust  of  Pallas 
"o'er  my  chamber  door"?  I  have  always 
imagined  the  bust  of  Pallas  the  particular  head 
shown  in  our  illustration,  and  Poe's  weird 
verses  made  such  an  impression  upon  my 
youthful  mind  that  I  never  see  the  head  and 
its  protecting  helmet  with  the  peek-hole  eyes 
but  I  imagine  that  great  black  bird  perched 
upon  it  croaking  ' '  Nevermore  ' '  at  the  end  of 
each  verse. 


[U] 


XI. 


THE  ^\Tite^  is  often  asked  which  statues 
of  antiquity  he  most  admires.  Amonjj 
the  female  figures  it  is  hard  to  make  ab- 
solute choice,  but  we  mav  ifroup  tojjether  the 
three  "Fates"  of  the  Parthenon,  the  V'enus 
of  Milo  and  the  Winged  Victor  v.  My  prefer- 
ence among  these  glorious  works  is  the  one  at 
which  I  happen  to  be  looking.  Since  we  have 
the  picture  of  the  Victory  before  us,  we  may 
call  it,  for  the  present,  the  most  beautiful  of 
all  the  ancient  sculptures. 

As  with  the  radiant  Venus  of 
not  even  know  its  maker's  name, 
like  Venus,  it  was  found  upon 
small  islands  of  the  ^gean  Sea 


Milo,  we  do 

And,  again 

one  of  the 

in  this  case, 


the  Island  of  Samothrace,  just  off  the  coast  of 


Demetrius  Poliorcetes  and  that  in  the  vear  306 
B.  c.  he  engaged  in  a  great  naval  battle  with  an 
Egyptian  fleet.  Fortunately  for  uh  and  for 
the  .schools,  he  was  victorious,  and  iwnt  the 
foreign  invader  about  Ma  buNiness.  Deme- 
trius became  King  of  Macedonia,  and,  as  waa 
the  custom  of  his  time  and  country,  provided 
a  votive  offering  to  be  erected  in  the  sacred 
Island  of  Samothrace.  His  very  appropriate 
choice  was  this  splendid  statue  of  Victory.  A 
coin  of  his  reign  shows  the  very  figure  upon 
the  prow  of  a  vessel,  unth  wings  extended  and 
trumpet  in  hand.  Unfortunately  the  arms, 
the  trumpet  and  even  the  head  are  lost,  but 
the  .statue  is  still  triumphant. 
You  can  imagine  the  illusion  of  the  plung- 


Winged  Victory 


Thrace.  Here  it  was  discovered  in  1863  by  a 
Frenchman,  who  had  it  transported  at  once  to 
Paris. 

It  is  now  one  of  the  greate.st  treasures  of  the 
LouvTe,  where  it  is  admirably  placed  at  the 
head  of  a  great  stairway.  Poi.sed  there  upon 
its  original  pedestal,  a  stone  prow  of  a  vessel, 
it  seems  to  float  in  the  air.  Few  statues  ap- 
peal so  strongly  to  one's  imagination  ;  it  makes 
the  old  heroic  days  real  once  more.  It  may 
be  of  interest  to  know  that  when  it  was  found 
the  figure  and  wings  were  in  one  hundred 
and  eighteen  pieces,  all  of  which  had,  of 
course,  to  be  carefully  fitted  and  fastened 
together. 

Although  we  do  not  know  who  made  this 
glorious  Nike,  we  are  fortunate  in  being  able 
to  learn  something  about  her.  We  read  that 
soon  after  the  death  of  Alexander  there  was  in 
Macedonia  a  certain  powerful  general  named 


ing  ves.sel  with  this  sui)erb  creature  lightly 
poised  upon  its  prow.  There  is  rush  and 
impetuosity  in  her  every  line.  The  eye  wan- 
ders with  delight  over  the  sweeping  folds  of 
the  flying  drapery,  following  them  around  the 
graceful  figure.  Behind,  the  garment  is  blown 
out  into  great  fluttering  masses  of  singular 
beauty  and  variety.  There  is  everj-where  that 
indescribable  i)lay  of  light  and  shade  which 
sculptors  persist  in  calling  "color"  —  yet  it 
is  without  harshness  or  monotony.  Over  the 
bosom  and  waist  the  drapery  is  thin  and 
pre.s.sed  close  to  the  body,  allowing  the  noble 
form  to  show  through.  No  feeble  little  sister 
she,  s<iueezed  up  tight  in  a  corset !  How  she 
would  pity  our  deformed  young  women,  with 
their  bent  ribs  and  star\'ed  lungs  !  Like  the 
V^enus  of  Milo.  her  beauty  is  largely  that  of 
exuberant  health,  of  perfect  adequacy.  It  is 
a  figure  worthy  of  a  goddess. 


[15] 


XII. 


WE  come  now  to  one  of  the  most  cele- 
brated works  of  sculpture  in  the 
world.  The  Apollo  Belvedere  has 
been  written  about  and  talked  about  for  four 
hundred  years.  It  was  found  in  the  last  years 
of  the  fifteenth  century  in  Italy  on  the  estate 
of  a  certain  great  cardinal,  who  was  destined 
to  become  the  famous  Pope  Julius  II.,  the 
good  friend  of  Michaelangelo  and  the  fierce 
enemy  of  almost  everybody  else. 


Apollo  Belvedere 


Some  German  artist  once  ,painted  a  roman- 
tic picture  of  the  first  exhibition  of  this  statue. 
The  proud  figure  stood  complete  in  all  its 
beauty  upon  a  pedestal,  while  grouped  around 
it  were  the  white-bearded  pope  and  his  cour- 
tiers, cardinals,  and  priests.  Handsome,  boy- 
ish Raphael  was  shown  at  one  side  with  his 
train  of  pupils,  and  somewhat  aloof  on  the 
other  side  was  Michaelangelo  looking  very 
cross  and  jealous.  Possibly  his  dear  friend, 
Vittoria  Colonna,  was  near  him  —  in  which 
case  it  may  be  that  he  was  not  looking  so 
ugly  after  all. 

It  is  a  great  pity  that  Michaelangelo  never 


saw  the  sculptures  of  the  Parthenon.  No  man 
ever  lived  who  could  have  enjoyed  them  more 
than  he,  but  he  had  to  content  himself  with 
what  was  known  then  —  the  Laocoon  group, 
the  Hercules  Torso  of  the  Belvedere,  the 
Apollo,  and,  of  course,  many  Roman  copies 
which  were  being  dug  up  all  the  time.  Fortu- 
nately, the  popes  were  great  collectors,  and 
these  ' '  finds  ' '  were  brought  up  and  added  to 
their  collections.  This  reminds  me  to  say  that 
the  ' '  Belvedere  ' '  was  the  name  of  the  original 
gallery  where  these  things  were  kept.  I  used 
to  suppose  that  Belvedere  was  Apollo's  family 
name,  like  Jones  or  Tomkins,  but  have  learned 
since  that  this  was  a  mistake. 

When  the  beautiful  statue  was  first  dis- 
covered the  hands  were  broken  off  and  lost, 
so  no  one  really  knows  just  what  Apollo  was 
doing.  The  sculptor  who  restored  the  figure 
gave  it  very  long  hands  and  put  a  bit  of  a  bow 
in  one  of  them  —  the  left —  to  indicate  that  the 
god  had  just  sent  an  arrow  at  some  enemy. 
This  explanation  seems  to  make  good  sense. 
Apollo  is  advancing  with  great  strides  of  his 
very  long  legs.  The  left  arm  is  stretched 
straight  out,  as  it  would  be  in  holding  the 
bow,  while  the  right  hand  is  dropped  at  the 
side  in  a  lively  gesture,  as  though  it  had  just 
sped  the  arrow  on  its  errand  of  destruction. 
He  holds  his  head  very  high,  and  some  think 
they  can  detect  the  sneer  in  that  haughty 
look.  It  certainly  is  rather  disdainful,  but  it 
has  a  right  to  be,  for  the  sun  god  was  invinci- 
ble. And  what  a  beautiful  head  this  is,  with 
its  clean-cut  features,  its  far-seeing  eyes  and 
its  wealth  of  curly  locks  ! 

Perhaps  they  are  a  trifle  too  curling,  those 
ringlets.  They  do  look  a  bit  snaky  in  places, 
but  this  and  the  sharpness  of  the  drapery  and 
overpolish  on  parts  of  the  body  were  doubtless 
the  mistakes  of  the  zealous  marble  cutter,  who 
carved  this  figure  from  a  still  more  beautiful 
bronze.  The  original  must  have  been  a  glori- 
ous work,  but  we  should  be  thankful  —  as 
Michaelangelo  was — to  have  even  a  copy  when 
it  is  as  fine  as  this.  It  will  pay  you  to  look  it 
up  next  time  you  visit  an  art  institute.  See  if 
you  can  recognize  it  from  this  picture. 


[16] 


XUI. 


APOLLO,  you  will  remember,  was  asso- 
ciated with  the  Bun,  and  was  believed 
to  be  so  radiant  that  no  mortal  could 
look  on  him.  He  had  a  twin  sister,  Artemis, 
whom  the  Romans  called  Diana.  She  was 
surpassingly  beautiful  also,  though  in  a  gentler 
way,  and  was  symbolized  by  the  moon.  But 
whereas  the  moon  leads  a  very  serene  and 
somewhat  chilly  existence,  Artemis  was  a 
fine,  active  girl,  whose  greatest  pleasure  was 
in  all  kinds  of  athletics.  In  modern  times  she 
would  probably  have  devoted  her  energies  to 
basket-ball  and  golf,  but,  as  she  did  not  know 
about  such  things,  she  indulged  often  in  the 
vigorous  joys  of  hunting.  The  old  poetic 
legends  generally  picture  her  as  the  queen  of 
the  chase.  They  tell  us,  too,  that  she  was  not 
at  all  sentimental ;  indeed,  she  rather  avoided 
"  the  boys."  Never  Was  she  so  happy  as  when 
following  her  eager  hounds  or  bathing  in 
woodland  pools  unth  her  attendant  nymphs. 

The  figure  shown  in  the  illustration  is  known 
as  the  Diana  of  Versailles,  since  it  was  at  one 
time  a  highly  prized  ornament  of  the  palace 
of  Versailles.  It  has  been  in  the  Louvre  in 
Paris  since  1798.  On  another  page  we  show 
the  gentle  ' '  Diana  at  Toilet ' ' ;  here  she  is 
evidently  "  Diana  the  Huntress."  The  tame 
deer  which  bounds  at  her  side  does  not  seem 
very  well  modeled,  and  this  and  some  other 
features  make  us  believe  that  the  statue  is  a 
copy,  though  a  very  good  one,  of  earlier  work. 
It  is  thought  that  it  dates  from  the  same  period 
as  the  ' '  Apollo  Belvedere, ' '  so  that  the  figures 
as  well  as  the  mythological  subjects  are  twins. 

This  period  we  call  the  age  of  Hellenistic 
art.  which  might  be  translated  Greek-ish  art. 
or  art  produced  under  Greek  influence.  You 
see,  Greece  became  suddenly,  under  Alex- 
ander, a  ' '  world  power, ' '  and  the  conqueror 
founded  cities  and  endowed  institutions  of 
learning  wherever  he  went.  All  these  various 
Alexandrias  and  other  capitals  became  centers 
of  Hellenic  culture,  and  several  of  them  de- 
veloped a  notable  art,  largely  founded  upon 
that  of  Greece.  The  empire  lasted,  to  be  sure, 
only  a  few  years,  but  the  influence  remained. 
Though  the  heritage  was  "  to  the  strongest," 
as  Alexander  predicted,  and  there  were  many 
claimants,  and  endless  struggle  followed,  there 
were  nevertheless  men  of  peace  who  settled  in 
Asia  Minor  and  Egypt  and  the  islands  of  the 
Mediterranean,  and  these  wrought  out  forms 
of  beauty  characteristic  of  this  mellow  autumn 
period  of  Greek  sculpture. 

Some  of  this  work  was  overdramatic  and 
so  restless  that  it  seems  unworthy  of  the  fair 
white  marble  in  which  it  is  carved,  yet  it 
shows  wonderful  skill  and  audacity  of  con- 
ception. There  was  an  immense  altar,  for 
instance,  in  Pergamos,  in  Asia  Minor,  an  altar 
as  big  as  a  church,  which  was  erected  prob- 
ably about  175  B.  c,  and  covered  with  im- 
mense reliefs  showing  the  struggle  between 
the  gods  and  the  earth  giants  and  monsters. 


There  are  sume  fragmentu  of  thi.H  tremen- 
dous work  in  art  institute  collections,  while 
the  whole  thing  is  set  up  in  the  museum  of 
Berlin.  It  is  l)elieved  that  it  is  of  this  verv 
structure  that  St.  John  wrote  in  Revelation 
the  me.s.sage  to  the  church  at  Pergamos,  *'  I 
know  where  thou  dwellest,  even  where  Satan's 
throne  is." 

Among  the  .strenuous  gods  who  decorated 
the  great  frieze  of  "  Satan's  .seat  "  it  is  inter- 
esting to  find  an  Apollo  almost  exactly  like  the 


DiuM  of  VcTMiUct 

AjwUo  Belvedere  and  a  Diana  sso  similar  to  the 
Diana  illustrated  above  that  we  know  they 
were  either  taken  the  one  from  the  other,  or 
both  from  .some  common  original. 

Our  Diana  is  very  proud  and  elegant,  like 
her  brother,  long  of  limb  and  with  a  verv 
.small  head.  Her  skirt  is  gathered  up  high 
for  rapid  motion  and  her  face  is  alert  as 
though  she  were  on  the  lookout  for  a  fleeing 
stag  or  boar.  Altogether  she  makes  a  beauti- 
ful decf)ration  for  a  schoolroom,  for  she  is  one 
of  the  most  perfect  works  preserved  for  our 
enjoyment  from  the  age  which  produced  the 
Winged  Victory  and  the  Venus  of  Milo. 


[17] 


XIV. 


ONE  of  the  great  pleasures  of  reading 
great  authors  is  the  constant  recogni- 
tion of  well-known,  often-quoted  pas- 
sages. We  have  all  heard  of  the  man  who 
thought  Shakespeare  had  a  pretty  easy  time 
of  it  after  all,  since  his  plays  are  "  more  than 
half  quotations."  He  knew  enough  to  recog- 
nize them,  at  any  rate,  and  that  is  a  satisfac- 
tion in  itself.  One  enjoys  a  similar  pleasure 
in  wandering  through  the  churches  and  muse- 
ums of  Europe.  Every  little  while  you  come 
upon  some  beautiful  thing  —  a  painting  or 
statue  —  which  you  have  known  for  years  by 
means  of  photographs  or  casts,  and  it  is  such 
a  pleasant  surprise  to  find  the  original  before 
vour  eves. 


He 


When  in  the  museum  of  Naples  two  sum- 
mers ago,  the  writer  was  startled  to  find  him- 
self face  to  face  with  the  extraordinary  bust 
which  we  picture  above  —  the  famqus  head  of 
Homer.  Never  mind  if  they  do  say  that  there 
never  was  a  Homer  —  that  is,  a  single  Homer 
—  when  we  look  upon  this  noble  countenance 
we  feel  that  it  represents  a  very  real  man ; 
we  are  convinced  that  here  is  a  poet  who 
might  have  written  the  ' '  Iliad  ' '  and  ' '  Odys- 
sey." This  is  one  of  the  saddest,  grandest 
faces  of  all  antiquity. 

A  little  reflection  will  convince  us,  however, 
that  the  head  is,  after  all,  but  an  ideal  por- 
trait.   The  great  blind  minstrel  journeyed  and 


sang  his  glorious  songs  away  back  in  the 
eighth  or  ninth  century  before  Christ,  and  the 
Greeks  were  not  making  such  busts  in  those 
days.  Not  a  thing  remains  to  us  with  certainty 
of  that  period.  The  sculpture  of  even  three 
hundred  years  later  was  as  funny  as  some  of 
the  heads  that  the  children  model  nowadays. 
It  is  believed  that  this  bust  dates  from  the 
' '  Hellenistic  period  ' '  of  which  we  have  al- 
ready told,  coming  within  two  or  three  cen- 
turies of  the  Christian  era.  So  it  represents, 
not  the  real  Homer,  but  the  later  Greek  ideal 
of  Homer.  It  shows  just  how  they  thought 
he  should  have  looked,  and  we  are  all  pleased 
to  accept  the  ideal  as  perfectly  satisfactory. 
Sculptors  are  often  called  upon  nowadays  to 
make  ideal  portraits,  and  it  is  a  good  test  of 
an  artist's  imagination  and  skill.  If  he  is 
able  to  conceive  a  head  that  seems  adequate, 
to  satisfy  all  of  our  ideals,  it  is  a  great  achieve- 
ment. This  is  what  Mr.  St.  Gaudens  has  done 
in  his  ' '  Deacon  Chapin, ' '  French  in  his  ' '  John 
Harvard, ' '  and  MacMonnies  in  his  ' '  Nathan 
Hale." 

How  perfectly  the  unknown  sculptor  has 
caught  the  sightless  look  !  Even  from  a  dis- 
tance one  recognizes  the  expression,  although 
the  eyes  are  not  closed.  The  face  is  calm  and 
serene,  but  the  eyebrows  are  lifted,  as  is  so 
often  the  case  with  the  blind ;  they  seem  to  be 
always  trying  to  open  their  eyes.  How  like 
the  rest  of  us  they  are  !  We  are  all  trying  so 
hard  to  know  and  to  understand,  longing  to 
become  better  acquainted  one  with  another, 
to  peer  into  the  mystery  of  life,  \'et  ever  with 
eyes  that  are  "holden."  But  this  is  no  way 
to  talk  to  school  children.  Their  undimmed 
eyes  see  clearly  and  confidently.  They  must 
lead  us. 

Look  again  and  see  what  a  grand  old  face 
this  is.  How  strong  and  picturesque  and 
melancholy  !  For  my  part  I  like  it  much  bet- 
ter than  the  Apollo  ;  it  seems  to  have  so  much 
more  character.  It  is  seldom  that  a  subject 
permits  of  a  treatment  so  rugged  and  at  the 
same  time  so  refined.  The  carving  of  the  hair 
and  beard,  of  the  wrinkled  brow  and  parted 
lips,  is  masterly  as  can  be.  The  old-time 
sculptor  by  thinking  his  best  and  doing  his 
best  has  conferred  a  favor  upon  us  all.  He 
has  had  the  same  privilege  as  Homer  himself 
—  that  of  talking  to  endless  generations  of 
men. 


[18] 


XV. 


THE  handsome  younj^  fellow  whose  iM»r- 
trait  we  show  here  has  a  very  different 
expression  from  that  of  pathetic  old 
Homer,  It  would  be  hard  to  chan>je  him  into 
a  Homer,  even  in  a  hundred  years.  He  was 
destined  to  win  fame  in  another  fashion,  but 
he  won  it,  and  his  name  will  always  be  re- 
membered. "Young  Augustus"  was  the 
nephew,  you  will  remember,  of  the  great 
Julius  Caesar,  and,  although  his  uncle  refused 
the  crown,  the  nephew  had  no  such  scruples, 
and  became  the  first  emperor  of  the  Romans. 
Born  in  63  b.  c,  he  died  —  as  .some  time  or 
other  even  emperors  must  —  in  14  a.  d.,  which 
means,  of  course,  that  he  was  on  the  throne 
when  Christ  was  born  in  that  little  town  of 
one  of  Rome's  faraway  Eastern  provinces. 
Of  course,  the  mighty  emperor  never  knew  of 
this  greatest  event  of  his  reign. 

It  was  a  glorious  period  in  Roman  life. 
Augustus  used  to  boast  that  he  found  Rome  a 
city  of  bricks  and  left  it  a  city  of  marble,  and 
this  was  hardly  an  exaggeration.  His  reign 
was,  indeed,  the  most  artistic,  if  not  the  most 
luxurious,  one  in  all  the  long  annals  of  the 
Eternal  City.  The  Romans  did  not  care  much 
at  first  for  the  fine  arts  ;  they  said  that  it  was 
their  business  to  conquer  nations  and  to  rule 
the  world,  not  to  paint  pictures  and  to  whittle 
statues.  But  after  a  while  they  had  a  taste  of 
the  beauties  of  Greek  art,  and  soon  they  could 
not  get  enough  of  it. 

Every  returning  general  would  bring  back 
a  shipload  of  statues  to  grace  his  triumph. 
Imagine  how  impressive  those  beautiful  fig- 
ures of  marble  and  bronze  must  have  been  in  . 
the  procession,  each  riding  in  his  chariot  like 
noble,  silent  prisoners  torn  from  their  beloved 
homeland.  Later  the  Romans  imported  Greek 
sculptors  and  artisans  to  make  more  statues, 
until  finally  the  population  of  bronze  and  stone 
men  in  the  capital  was  greater  than  the  num- 
ber of  living  citizens. 

Especially  did  they  like  portraits.  Busts  of 
' '  grandpa  ' '  and  '  *  grandma  ' '  were  as  es- 
sential to  light  hou.sekeeping  as  a  range  and 
an  ice  box  in  a  modern  flat.  What  a  job  it 
must  have  been  on  "  moving  day  "  if  one  had 
a  hundred  or  more  stone  ancestors  to  cart 
about ! 

Augustus,  who  did  so  much  to  encourage 
the  arts,  was  rewarded  by  being  able  to  leave 
behind  him  some  of  the  finest  portraits  that 
w^ere  ever  bequeathed  to  the  world.  This 
bust  is  one  of  them,  and  enjoys  great  fame  ; 


everybody  knows  the  '*  Vountf  AugtuttUH  "  of 
the  Vatican.  There  are  two  others,  Htatuett, 
which  are  magnificent  thintj^.  One  in  Au- 
gustus as  commander  of  the  troops,  in  full 
armor.  He  stands  with  an  arm  outstretched. 
as  if  giving  an  order  ;  not  shouting,  but  speak- 
ing  quietly  like  a  man  who  ex|)ectM  to  be 
obeyed. 

The  other  figure  seems  to  me  even  more 
beautiful.  It  is  a  cast  of  the  famous  one  in 
the  Louvre  in  Paris  ;  the  emjieror  as  a  senator, 
perhaps,  wrapi)ed  in  his  toga  and  preimrcd  to 
make  a  speech.  IL  has  a  noble  dignity,  which 
is  about  the  finest  thing  poK.sible  in  sculpture. 


Young  Augofltw 

One  does  not  appreciate  it  all  at  once,  but  if 
you  will  sit  down  before  this  figure  for  five 
minutes  and  let  it  talk  to  you,  you  will  never 
forget  it.  It  may  talk  Latin,  but  you  will 
understand. 

Although  these  .statues  show  the  emperor 
in  the  prime  of  life,  there  is  no  difficulty  in 
recognizing  the  face  as  the  same  which  wa.s 
once  that  of  the  "Young  Augustus."  The 
head  is  intellectual,  the  features  clean-cut  and 
aristotTatic.  but  not  haughty.  Augustus  was 
evidently  of  the  nobility  —  past  or  future  — 
and  no  sculptor  ever  had  a  finer  .subject.  The 
earnest,  thoughtful  face  Is  that  of  a  diligent 
student,  and  we  know  that  he  prejiare<l  him- 
.self  thoroughly  for  his  great  task  ot  ruling  the 
world.  The  *'*  Young  Augu.stas  "  is  quite  at 
home  in  a  busy  schoolroom. 


[19  1 


XVI. 


IN  almost  every  art  institute  are  two  figures 
to  which  I  invite  your  attention.  One  is 
the  muse  Polyhymnia  ;  the  other,  her  sis- 
ter, Thalia.  The  originals  are  in  the  Vatican 
in  Rome,  and  both  are  much  admired  by  those 
who  know    about  such   things.     Their   grace 


TTialia 


and  modest  dignity  would  appeal,  however, 
to  any  one,  whether  he  were  acquainted  with 
sculpture  or  not. 

Polyhymnia,  the  muse  of  the  divine  hymn, 
stands  leaning  upon  an  irregular  pier  of  stone. 
Close  wrapped  in  her  mantle,  she  seems  lost 
in  thought.     Her  attitude  is  very  restful  and 


the  whole  expression  of  face  and  form  alike  is 
that  of  perfect  serenity. 

Thalia,  the  blithesome  muse  of  comedy,  is 
even  more  attractive  to  many  tastes.  For  a 
Greek  statue  she  is  unusually  "personal," 
looking  much  like  some  nice  high-school  girl 
of  modern  times.  What  a  pretty  tableau  could 
be  made  in  this  costume  and  pose  !  Her  fig- 
ure is  youthful  and  slender,  the  expression  of 
her  face  very  sweet.  Although  Thalia  was 
the  patroness  of  banquet-song  and  mirth,  the 
inspirer  of  gayety,  there  is  no  look  of  the 
comedian  on  that  fine  countenance.  The 
sculptor  felt  that  a  fleeting  smile  was  not 
worthy  the  eternal  permanence  of  the  marble. 
He  places  beside  her  the  comic  mask  con- 
torted with  grotesque  laughter.  The  symbol 
will  suffice  ;  her  own  beautiful  features  may 
remain  placid. 

The  fact  that  the  ancient  Greeks  appointed 
so  many  divinities  to  the  care  and  protection 
of  the  various  forms  of  poetry  gives  one  a  no- 
tion of  the  importance  which  the  fine  arts 
held  in  their  esteem.  Apollo  himself  was 
' '  head  professor, ' '  or  chairman  of  the  com- 
mittee ;  then  followed  these  zealous  assist- 
ants, each  with  her  special  department  and 
duties.  Thalia  will  most  appeal  to  our  mod- 
ern sympathies,  for  long  before  the  Romans 
associated  her  so  exclusively  with  comedy  she 
was  identified  with  the  love  of  nature  and 
"the  simple  life."  She  it  was  who  favored 
rural  sports  and  pleasures  and  who  bestowed 
the  bloom  of  life.  Hence  she  bears  not  only 
the  mask  of  Comus,  but  a  shepherd's  crook, 
and  wears  a  wreath  of  ivy. 

Gracious  Thalia  is  attired  in  the  exquisite 
costume  of  those  ideal  days.  The  artist  has 
arranged  every  line  with  loving  care,  yet  has 
so  well  concealed  his  art  that  one  hardly  sus- 
pects it  to  be  a  matter  of  art  at  all.  What 
delicacy  of  imagination  it  must  require  to 
conceive  a  figure  as  fine  as  this  ;  what  skill  to 
produce  it !  If  the  sculptor  had  made  it  any 
more  realistic,  insisting  upon  details,  we  might 
have  admired  the  folds  of  drapery,  the  locks 
of  hair,  the  finger-nails,  and  such  minor  things, 
and  overlooked  the  intention  of  the  whole. 
As  it  is,  the  maidenly  beauty  of  the  young 
priestess  of  art  is  like  an  aroma,  too  delicate 
to  define.     It  is  literally  poetry  personified. 


[20] 


XVII. 


AFTER  Aujfustus  Csesar  came  that  lonjj: 
procession  of  emperors,  j^reat  and  small, 
noble  and  vile,  who  for  five  hundred 
years  were  called  by  the  Fates  to  rule  the 
Empire  of  Rome.  Some  of  them  i)ersecuted 
the  Christians  and  some  patronized  the  arts, 
while  a  few  had  tastes  in  both  directions.  But 
the  glorious  Augustan  age  was  not  to  be  re- 
peated. Culture  declined  rapidly,  and  then 
followed  an  immense  stretch  of  time,  a  i>eriod 
of  nearly  a  thousand  years,  during  which  noth- 
ing of  beauty  and  little  of  interest  was  pro- 
duced. Toward  the  end  of  the  thirteenth 
century  there  were  signs  of  an  awakening  in 
Italy,  and  during  the  next  century  much 
progress  was  made,  especially  in  church  deco- 
ration. In  the  year  1386  was  born  in  Florence 
a  future  sculptor  whose  influence  was  to  be 
very  great  and  whose  skill  we  admire  to-day 
as  much  as  it  was  praised  in  his  own  time. 
He  had  a  long  name,  but,  like  his  own  friends. 
we  call  him  Donatello  "  for  short." 

Talent  seems  to  be  no  resijecter  of  families, 
and  we  need  not  be  surprised  to  find  the  great- 
est artist  of  his  century  born  under  the  humble 
roof  of  a  woolcomber.  Such  was  the  home  of 
Donatello.  We  know  little  of  his  childhood, 
but  one  date  is  well  recorded ;  in  1402,  when 
little  Donatello  had  grown  to  be  a  boy  of  six- 
teen, there  was  held  in  Florence  a  competition 
to  decide  which  sculptor  should  have  the 
honor  of  making  the  great  bronze  door  of  the 
baptistery.  This  was  the  time  when  Ghiberti 
won  the  day  and  began  that  magnificent  work 
of  a  lifetime  which  was  to  make  his  name  im- 
mortal. Donatello  had  a  friend,  young  Bru- 
nellesco,  who  took  part  in  this  competition 
and  was  beaten.  He  was  much  disappointed, 
of  course,  and  turned  to  architecture,  in 
which  he  was  destined  to  earn  a  great  reputa- 
tion. Together  the  two  young  men  took  a 
long  journey  to  Rome,  where  the  wonders  of 
the  past  made  a  deep  impression  upon  them. 
We  do  not  know  how  long  they  .stayed  there, 
but  there  is  record  that  at  the  age  of  twenty 
Donatello  received  payment  for  various  stat- 
ues of  saints  for  the  decoration  of  the  cathe- 
dral in  his  native  city.  He  was  thirty  years 
old  when  he  made  the  remarkable  figure  which 
we  illustrate  here,  his  famous  "St.  George." 
It  was  not  intended  for  the  cathedral,  but  for 
a  niche  on  the  outside  of  a  small  church  called 
Or  San  Michele.  St.  George  was  the  patron 
saint  of  the  armorers,  and  it  was  the  armor- 
ers' guild,  or  union,  which  ordered  the  statue 
and  set  it  up  there  for  the  glorification  of  their 
good  saint  and  the  decoration  of  their  beloved 
city.  In  those  days  every  man  of  Florence 
felt  a  pride  in  her  fame  and  beauty  ;  each  ac- 
cording to  his  means  contributed  toward  her 
further  embellishment.  Our  tourists  go  there 
by  thou.sands  every  year  to  see  the  churches 
and  monuments  erected  during  that  splendid 
period  of  public  enthusiasm,  the  wonderful 
days  of  the  opening  renais.sance. 

Donatello's  conception  of  St.  George  was 
a  ver>-  noble  one,  and  the  figure  was  recog- 
nized at  once  as  a  masterpiece.  The  soldier- 
saint  is  shown  in  armor,  .standing  firmly  on 
both  feet,  which  are  well  apart,  and  resting 
his  hands  upon  his  great  shield.  The  pose 
was  new  for  a  statue  and  proves  the  origi- 
nality of  the  artist;   there  is  no  gesture,  no. 


movement,  only  a  slight  turn  of  the  head,  and 
eyes  that  i)eer  into  the  distance.  The  ver\' 
stillness  of  the  figure  makes  it  Heem  alive.  If 
it  had  been  shown  making  a  great  eflFort,  as 
striding  or  brandishing  a  sword,  we  should 
feel  at  once  that  it  was  all  "  make-believe  **  or 
that  he  had  lx;en  paralyzed  in  that  position, 
but  now  all  is  .so  impressively  cjuiel  and  tense 
that  one  half  exjwcts  to  see  him  move.  It  is 
.said  that  Michelangelo  was  so  struck  with  this 
look  of  life  that  when  he  first  .saw  the  figure 
he  cried  out  to  it,  "  March." 

In  another  way  also  di<i  Donatello  show  his 
good  ta.ste.     Although  he  was  the  most  skilful 


St.  Geofge 

sculptor  of  his  time  and  famed  for  making  the 
daintiest  reliefs  imaginable,  we  notice  that  he 
did  not  overdo  the  fini.sh  on  this  statue.  See 
how  .simply  it  is  all  handled.  It  dc^es  not  .sug- 
gest a  wax  figure,  with  real  hair  and  real 
clothes.  Donatello  has  not  tried  to  deceive 
us  into  thinking  that  St.  George  is  a  real.  Wve 
man.  It  is  evidently  the  figure  of  a  man  cut 
out  of  .stone,  and  the  sculptor  has  kept  this  in 
mind  all  of  the  time.  The  great  arti.sts  ha\^ 
always  worked  in  this  way,  "respecting  their 
material,"  as  we  say.  treating  marble  as  mar- 
ble and  wcK»d  as  wood,  and  making  bronze 
figures  in  still  a  different  fashion.  They  do 
not  try  to  cut  drapery  as  thin  as  real  cloth 
nor  make  their  figures  look  like  "stuffed" 
men  and  women.  No  sculptor  understood 
this  better  than  Donatello,  and  no  statue  il- 
lustrates it  better  than  his  brave  St.  George. 


[21] 


XVIII. 


No  doubt  the  Greeks  liked  babies  as  much 
as  we  do,  but  they  do  not  seem  to 
have  considered  them  fitting  subjects 
for  sculpture,  and  so,  from  lack  of  practice, 
they  did  not  do  them  very  well.  Even  the 
baby  which  Praxiteles  set  upon  the  arm  of  his 
Hermes  was  not  satisfactory.  The  Greek 
idea  of  sculpture  was  something  noble  and 
dignified;  they  did  not  attempt  to  make  it 
look  ' '  cunning. ' '  With  the  Romans  there 
was  more  call  for  this  sort  of  thing.  Their 
painters  and  sculptors  introduced  children  in 
great  numbers  for  purely  decorative  purposes 
—  long  festoons  of  Cupids,  whole  friezes  of 
fat  little  cherubs.  But  there  never  was  such 
a  time  for  babies  in  art  as  in  those  early  days 
of  the  renaissance,  and  there  never  was  a 
sculptor,  perhaps,  who  understood  them  quite 
as  well  as  did  Donatello. 


advantage  they  take  of  their  freedom  !  Across 
the  long  space  they  pour,  as  if  just  let  out  of 
school,  kicking  up  their  heels  and  almost  turn- 
ing handsprings. 

This  beautiful  frieze  is  one  of  the  liveliest 
things  in  sculpture,  as  it  is  also  one  of  the 
most  decorative.  While  the  children  are 
bunched  in  several  places,  as  they  are  sure  to 
be  in  play,  one  sees  here  and  there  one  of 
them  very  distinctly  outlined  in  some  striking 
position.  This  gives  a  "design,"  or  "pat- 
tern," to  the  composition,  even  when  seen 
from  quite  a  distance,  which  is  an  important 
matter  in  anything  intended  for  decoration. 
When  the  gallery  was  in  place  there  were 
little  ornamented  pillars  set  in  front  of  it  at 
intervals,  which  seemed  to  divide  it  into 
panels,  but  the  youngsters  pranced  and  raced 
freely  behind  this  decorative  fence  and  around 


Cherubs  Dancing  and  Playing  on  Instruments 
By  Donatello 


Other  sculptors  have  made  prettier  children, 
but  this  great  man  caught  the  zest  and  spirit 
of  their  play,  and  has  given  us  some  of  the 
most  joyous  glimpses  of  young  life  that  the 
world  has  ever  seen. 

In  1441  Donatello  was  fifty-five  years  old,  but 
he  was  not  too  aged  to  enjoy  the  sports  of 
youth.  I  do  not  mean  that  he  played  "  tag  " 
and  "  ring  around  the  rosy  "  himself,  but  he 
enjoyed  seeing  the  little  people  in  these  im- 
mortal games.  It  was  in  that  year  that  he 
finished  his  beautiful  choir  gallery  in  the 
great  cathedral  of  Florence.  There  were 
two  of  these  stone  balconies  on  opposite  sides 
of  the  church  choir.  The  one  was  decorated 
by  Luca  della  Robbia — a  delightful  artist,  of 
whom  we  shall  have  something  to  say  in  an- 
other article  —  the  other  by  Donatello.  Delia 
Robbia  divided  the  front  of  his  gallery 
into  panels,  and  filled  them  with  groups  of 
little  musicians,  some  singing  "  for  all  they're 
worth,"  and  others  playing  musical  instru- 
ments with  no  le.ss  vigor.  Donatello  thought 
that  he  would  try  a  different  scheme.  He 
simply  turned  the  children  loo.se  on  his  gallery 
front  and  let  them    "perform."     And  what 


on  the  ends  of  the  balcony.  Their  antics  are 
irresistible  ;  no  one  can  look  at  them  without 
laughing. 

This  was  not  the  reason,  however,  why  they 
were  banished  from  the  church.  It  seems 
that  some  time  in  the  seventeenth  century 
there  was  to  be  a  royal  wedding  there,  and 
these  rather  small  galleries  were  not  sufficient 
to  hold  all  of  the  musicians,  so  down  they 
came  in  order  to  be  replaced  by  large  tempo- 
rary structures.  And  then  they  just  never 
happened  to  be  put  back  !  You  might  expect 
that  people  who  would  do  a  thing  like  this 
would  neglect  also  to  take  care  of  the  exiled 
sculptures,  but,  fortunately,  some  one  did  take 
care  of  them,  and  they  may  be  seen  to-day  in 
the  museum  of  the  church  across  the  street. 
There  the  little  waifs  still  keep  up  their  merry 
round,  just  as  mischievous  and  just  as  gay  as 
when  the  sculptor  carved  them.  The  real 
children,  whom  Donatello  watched  at  their 
sport,  grew  old  and  died,  and  others  came 
and  went  their  way  ;  generation  after  genera- 
tion all  turned  to  dust,  but  the.se  marble 
babies  are  the  true  immortals.  They  do  not 
even  grow  old. 


[22] 


XIX. 


THERE  is  an  old  le«;tMKl  that  (ireek  sculp- 
ture had  its  bejjinninji  in  the  affection 
and  ingenuity  of  a  young  woman.  Ac- 
cording to  the  pretty  story,  the  girl's  lover 
was  called  to  make  a  long  journey.  It  was 
night  when  the  parting  came,  and  it  chanced 
that  his  shadow  was  thrown  on  the  wall. 
Even  the  shadow  was  dear  to  the  maiden,  and 
with  a  bit  of  charcoal  she  drew  its  contour 
where  the  friendly  candle  had  outlined  it. 
Later  she  filled  in  the  silhouette  with  clay, 
and  thus  had  a  perfect  likeness  of  the  beloved 


St.  Cecilia 

face.  No  doubt  this  first  of  all  medallions 
was  a  great  comfort  to  the  young  woman, 
since  there  were  no  photographs  in  those 
days. 

It  sounds  easy,  but  if  you  try  it  you  will  dis- 
cover that  the  shadow  has  more  resemblance 
than  the  clay  relief  is  likely  to  offer.  Low- 
relief  is  one  of  the  most  difficult  forms  of 
sculpture.  Many  imagine  that  a  relief  is  a 
head  or  body  split  in  two  and  pasted  against  a 
background,  or  else  merely  flattened  out  as 
if  it  were  run  through  a  clothes-wringer. 
Neither  of  these  methods  would  produce  a 
good  low-relief. 

The  Greeks  attained  to  great  perfection  in 
this  beautiful  work.  The  Egyptians  and  As- 
syrians used  it  much  also,  but  never  outgrew 
certain  mistakes  which  are  natural  to  all  be- 
ginners. Children  when  drawing  side  views 
of  men  and  women  almost  always  show  the 
eye  in  front  view,  looking  squarely  out  of  the 
side  of  the  head  — exactly  as  the  Egyptians 
used  to  make  them.  In  the  days  of  the  renais- 
sance—  the  "new  birth  "  of  art  and  literature 
—  this  fa.scinating  form  of  sculpture  was  re- 
vived and  carried  to  a  perfection  of  delicacy 
that  even  the  Greeks  and  Romans  had  not 
anticipated.  One  of  the  greatest  masters  of 
low-relief  was  Donatello,  and  two  of  the  finest 
of  his  works  are  the  heads  which  we  illustrate 
here. 

It  may  as  well  be  acknowledged,  however, 
to  begin  with,  that  we  are  not  quite  sure  that 
the  fair  St.  Cecilia  is  really  the  product  of 
Donatello's  .skill.  It  is  not  signed,  and  our 
chief  reason  for  thinking  that  he  made  this 
head  is  the  fact  that  it  is  so  perfect  —  we  do 
not  know  any  one  else  of  that  time  who  could 
have  made  k.  The  illustration  gives  little 
idea  of  the  charm  of  this  work.  To  the  eye  it 
is,  of  course,  only  light  and  shade,  but  what 
exquisitely  refined  lights  and  shades  they  are  ! 
Even  in  the  cutting  sunlight  it  would  be  the 


same  —  no  black  holes,  but  floating  shadows 
everywhere,  like  a  form  seen  in  the  miM.. 
They  talk  about  **  atmosphere  '"  in  iminting; 
this  is  atmosi)here  in  .sculpture.  There  is 
nothing  that  descril>es  it  so  well  as  low,  har- 
monious music.  What  an  appropriate  UKe  of 
it  we  have  here,  then,  where  the  sculptor  is 
repre.senting  his  ideal  of  the  sweet  patroness 
of  mu.sic.  The  gentle  saint  Is  shown  with  her 
head  bowed  as  if  she  were  seated  before  her 
favorite  in.strument,  her  fingers  bringing  forth 
celestial  strains.  There  is  a  Untk  of  inspira- 
tion in  the  face,  a  breath  of  ecstasy  in  the 
parted,  sad-smiling  lijw.  It  is  a  wonderful 
thing  to  express  so  much  in  a  face  ;  to  create 
such  a  precious  type ;  something  to  be  treas- 
ured through  countless  ages.  Don't  you  think 
it  worth  while  ? 

Donatello  and  his  colleagues  had  certain 
great  advantages  in  their  day.  There  was  an 
enormous  demand  for  their  work  from  all  of 
the  churches.  And  when  their  statues  and 
reliefs  were  set  in  place  there  was  a  great 
and  sympathetic  public  to  appreciate  them. 
Nothing  develoi^s  taste  so  rapidly  as  compari- 
son. You  can  see  that  if  there  was  a  picture 
or  statue  of  St.  John,  for  instance,  in  every 
<:hurch,  and  if  churches  were  as  numerous 
and  as  open  as  saloons  are  in  .some  cities,  how 
soon  one  would  learn  which  was  the  most 
beautiful  work.  Then  the  next  iminter  or 
sculptor  would  certainly  not  copy  the  ugly 
one,  but  would  seek  his  inspiration  from  the 
favorite,  or  else  would  try  to  sur|)a.ss  it.  Thus 
there  was  a  continual  friendly  rivalry  among 
the  artists,  and  a  pious  emulation  in  the 
churches  as  well.  Donatello  was  called  ujHin 
to  carve  many  saints.  Possibly  you  would  like 
his  ideal  of  John  the  Baptist.'    He  thought  of 


St.  Jobs 

him  always  as  the  wild  man  of  the  desert, 
almost  crazed  v^-ith  his  awful  responsibility. 
He  shows  him  shagg>-  and  haggard  in  look, 
with  open  mouth  that  cries  ever.  **  Repent 
ve  ;  repent  ye."  But  when  he  dreams  of  the 
beloved  di.sciple,  how  tender  is  his  touch  ! 
The  second  relief  — which  is  now  in  the 
Louvre  in  Paris  —  is  one  of  Donatello's  rep- 
resentations of  the  young  St.  John.  One 
feels  that  the  sculptor  enjoyed  doing  this 
head.  It  has  much  individuality  in  it :  he 
knew  just  what  he  wished  to  do,  and  just  how 
to  do  it.  It  is  absolutely  without  weakiu-vs. 
and  yet  there  is  delicacy  in  every  touch.  The 
.schoolroom  which  has  it  posses.ses  a  little  gem. 


[23] 


XX. 


ONCE  upon  a  time  there  was  a  little  boy 
named  Luke  who  was  determined  to 
become  a  great  artist.  He  had  studied 
in  school  until  he  could  read  and  write  and  do 
easy  "  sums,"  and  then  he  was  apprenticed  to 
a  goldsmith.  While  in  this  employ  he  learned 
to  model  and  to  draw,  and  this  experience  led 
him  to  choose  sculpture  as  his  profession.  He 
was  so  ambitious  and  so  in  love  with  the  art 
that  he  ' '  did  nothing  but  work  with  his  chisel 
all  day,  and  by  night  he  practiced  himself  in 
drawing. ' '    Some  boys  like  to  draw,  and  some 


Children  Playing  on  Cymbals 
by  Luca  Delia  Robbia 

would  rather  be  whipped.  Evidently  he  pre- 
ferred the  former,  as  the  quaint  old  biographer 
continues  :  ' '  This  he  did  with  so  much  zeal 
that  when  his  feet  were  frozen  with  cold  he 
kept  them  in  a  basket  of  shavings  to  warm 
them  so  that  he  might  not  be  compelled  to 
discontinue  his  drawings." 

All  of  this  was  a  long  time  ago  —  some  five 
hundred  years  indeed,  for  Luca  della  Robbia 
was  born  in  1400  —  and  I  scarcely  need  add 
that  his  home  was  in  that  rare  wonder-city  of 
Florence.  The  boy  who  sat  drawing,  with 
his  cold  feet  in  a  basket  of  shavings,  was 
destined  to  do  some  beautiful  work,  which 
is  known  and  prized  everywhere  to-day. 
He  took  the  cheapest  and  humblest  of  all 
materials,  ordinary  clay,  such  as  they  find 
anywhere  in  digging  wells  or  cellars,  and 
converted  it  into  exquisite  sculpture  —  sweet- 


faced  madonnas,  darling  babies  and  splendid 
angels.  These  models  he  glazed  and  baked 
until  they  were  as  hard  as  crockery  and  as 
lasting  as  bronze.  The  galleries  of  Europe 
are  full  of  treasured  specimens  of  ' '  Della 
Robbia  ware, ' '  and  one  sees  its  blue  and  white 
in  many  of  the  churches  of  Italy.  Its  beauty 
and  perfection  make  it  as  much  sought  after 
as  marble  sculpture.  It  seems  an  even  more 
wonderful  thing  to  take  mere  earth  and  con- 
vert it  by  the  magic  of  genius  into  something 
so  rare  and  valuable. 

Luca  worked,  however,  in  other  materials 
as  well.  He  was  an  expert  carver  in  marble, 
and  made  at  least  one  pair  of  bronze  doors.  I 
spoke  the  other  day  of  a  second  ' '  singing  gal- 
lery ' '  which  faced  that  one  of  Donatello  in 
the  grand  old  cathedral  of  Florence.  This 
was  the  work  of  Luca  della  Robbia,  and  plenty 
of  time  he  put  upon  it ;  at  least  it  was  begun 
in  1431  and  not  erected  until  1440.  It  is  the 
very  earliest  of  his  sculpture  with  which  we 
are  acquainted,  and  we  can  imagine  how 
eagerly  he  toiled  upon  it  and  how  impatiently 
he  waited  then  for  Donatello  to  get  his  gal- 
lery finished  so  that  they  might  be  seen  to- 
gether. No  doubt  each  had  his  warm  friends 
and  each  gallery  its  enthusiastic  partisans, 
and  discussions  must  have  run  high  as  to 
which  was  the  finer  work,  but  we  need  not 
choose  between  them.  Both  are  very  beauti- 
ful, and  it  is  most  interesting  to  see  how  differ- 
ently two  great  masters  treat  the  very  same 
problem. 

You  will  remember  that  Donatello  covered 
his  gallery  front  with  a  throng  of  merry  danc- 
ing children.  Della  Robbia  cut  his  space  up 
into  panels  ;  four  in  front,  one  at  each  end, 
and  then  another  row  of  four  more  on  the 
wall  underneath,  and  these  he  filled  also  with 
children,  exquisitively  carved  in  marble.  But 
he  had  the  happy  thought  to  make  them  illus- 
trate the  fine  old  psalm  about  praising  the 
Lord  :  ' '  Praise  Him  on  the  psaltery  and  the 
harp,"  etc.  So  in  each  panel  he  showed  a 
little  group  playing  upon  some  special  instru- 
ment. A  few  are  dancing,  and  there  are  two 
or  three  groups  which  are  singing  —  the  most 
wonderful  singers  you  can  imagine  —  you  can 
almost  hear  them.  These  little  musicians  are 
among  the  most  popular  things  ever  made  by 
a  sculptor.  You  will  find  casts  of  them  in 
every  civilized  country  in  the  world.  Little 
enough  did  good  Uncle  Luca  think  of  Amer- 
ica when  he  was  carving  their  pretty  faces  and 
graceful  limbs ! 


[24] 


XXI. 


LUCA  DELLA  ROBBIA  never  married, 
but  was  wedded  his  long  life  through  to 
his  beautiful  art.  He  loved  it  so  much 
that  it  is  no  wonder  he  succeeded,  until  finally 
priests  and  monks  and  powerful  nobles  began 
to  come  long  distances  to  get  him  to  do  work 
for  them.  The  demand  became  .so  great  that 
he  employed  other  sculptors  to  model  groups 
for  him,  after  his  designs.  But  he  kept  his 
gjeat  secret  of  the  mysterious  glaze  to  himself. 
He  had  a  young  nephew  named  Andrea,  whom 
he  loved  very  much.  Baby  Andrea  was  always 
welcome  in  the  great  shop  where  Luca  and  his 
assistants  were  very  busy  modeling  angels  and 
saints  and  holy  virgins.  Now  and  then,  I 
fancy,  the  little  fellow  was  invited  to  sit  very 
still  while  they  sketched  his  smiling  face  and 
round  baby  limbs  in  the  plastic  clay.  Prob- 
ably not  a  few  of  Uncle  Luca's  pretty  babies 
were  portraits  of  the  sturdy  little  nephew.  It 
must  have  amused  him  when  he  was  older  to 
be  told  that  this  Christ-child  and  that  young 
St.  John  were  portraits  of  his  own  baby 
face. 

But  there  was  something  that  he  liked  to  do 
much  better  than  posing  — oh,  ever  so  much 
better !  —  and  that  was  to  take  a  handful  of 
soft  clay  and  try  to  model  things  for  himself. 
At  first  the  results  were  rather  funny  ;  the 
only  thing  that  he  could  do  very  well  was  a 
little  clay  nest  with  a  lot  of  round  eggs  in  it. 
He  kept  on  trying,  however,  and  one  day 
astonished  the  whole  shopful  of  .sculptors  and 
apprentices  by  the  beauty  of  a  head  which  he 
had  made.  Then  his  uncle  was  delighted,  in- 
deed, and  said  that  he  should  be  his  heir  and 
successor,  and  that  when  he  was  old  enough 
he  would  tell  him  the  secret  of  the  blue  and 
white  glaze. 

Andrea  worked  on  diligently  and  learned  to 
make  groups  and  reliefs  .so  perfect  in  propor- 
tion and  design,  .so  charming  in  expre.ssion, 
that  they  could  not  be  told  from  his  uncle's 
best.  Then  the  great  secret  was  confided  to 
him,  and  he  became  full  partner  in  the  now 
famous  studio. 

Ever  since  1421,  the  guild  of  silk  workers  of 
Florence  had  been  building  an  asylum  for  the 
foundlings  of  the  city.  It  was  just  fifty  years 
later  w^hen  the  Delia  Robbias  gave  the  last 
touch  to  its  decorations.  Luca  was  born,  you 
will  remember  —  most  conveniently  for  our 
memories  —  in  1400  ;  he  was,  therefore,  just 
seventy-one  years  old  at  the  time.  He  may 
have  superintended  the  work,  but  we  know  that 
these  adorable  babies  all  done  up  in  swaddling 


clothes  were  from  the  hands  of  Andrea,  who 

wa.s  now  thirty-four  years  old. 

A  baby  is  called  a  bambino  in  Italian  and 
if  there  are  two  of  them  they  are  called  bam- 
bini, but  we  make  our  plurals  in  our  own 
independent  American  way,  and  call  these 
charming  creatures  Delia  Robbia  bambinos. 
Anybody  who  has  been  abroad  will  know  what 
that  means  ;  and  few  can  hear  the  word  with- 
out .smiling,  for  there  is  nothing  prettier  in 
all  Europe  than  that  array  of  shiny  babies 
hung  up  on  the  front  of  the  Spedale  dcgli 
Innocenti,  as  they  call  the  asylum  in  their 
musical  language.  It  is  a  long  porch,  or 
arcade,  and  over  each  iK)st,  between  the 
arches,   is   one  of    these    medallions.      Each 


little  fellow  is  more  charming  than  the  last ; 
one  runs  back  and  forth  trying  to  make  up 
his  mind  as  to  which  is  his  final  favorite  —  just 
as  if  he  were  selecting  a  real  baby  from  the 
large  household  of  cherubs  within.  It  is 
equally  hopeless  in  either  case  ;  Italian  babies 
are  so  beautiful  that  one  never  could  decide. 

Very  likely  these  dear,  bright-faced  infants, 
which  have  reached  out  their  little  hands  to 
the  pa.s.sers-by  and  have  smiled  steadily  for  wo 
many'  centuries,  were  ix>rtraits  of  Andrea's 
children.  It  was  their  turn  now.  I  can 
imagine  the  whole  family  there  —  Giovanni, 
Girolamo,  Luca,  and  Ambrosio  —  all  helping, 
and  all  of  them  destined  to  become  sculptors. 
So  for  many  years  they  carried  on  family  tra- 
ditions according  to  their  talent  and  as  the 
eventful  times  permitted.  But  never  did  they 
make  anything  more  ap{)ealing,  more  delight- 
ful than  the  bambini  ot  the  foundlings'  home. 


[25] 


XXII. 


AMONG  other  artistic  features  of  the  rich 
fifteenth  century  were  those  pretty  musi- 
cal names.  Here  is  a  little  group  of 
eminent  Italian  sculptors,  all  born  between 
1427  and  1431  :  Antonio  Rosselino,  Desiderio 
da  Settignano,  Antonio  Pollajuolo,  Mino  da 
Fiesole,  Andrea  Verrochio,  and  Matteo  Civi- 
tali.  Then  there  was  Benedetto  da  Majano 
(pronounced  Mayano),  Agostino  Duccio,  An- 
tonio Amadeo  and  ever  so  many  more. 
Doesn't  it  sound  just  like  grand  opera?  You 
feel  as  if  such  names  were  made  to  be  sung. 
But  they  belonged  to  real  men  who  were  at 
one  time  boys  and  played  and  sometimes 
quarreled,  who  had  chapped  hands  and  dirty 
faces,  who  suffered  from  mumps  and  measles 
and  hard  lessons,  and  rejoiced  over  holidays 
and  good  things  to  eat  quite  as  heartily  as  any 
small  Johnny  Jones  or  Patsy  Flannigan  or 
Hans  Dietrichstein  of  to-day. 

Most  of  them  were  country  boys  who  grew 
up   in   the   lovely  villages  that  nestle  among 


Boy  by  Desiderio  da  Settignano 

the  hills  surrounding  Florence.  There  they 
saw  little  of  art,  but  perhaps  a  visit  to  the 
great  city,  a  glimpse  of  some  wonderful  statue 
or  painting,  had  set  their  young  minds  on  fire. 
Returning  to  the  quiet  village  streets  and 
wandering  beneath  the  gray  olive  trees,  they 
Avere  haunted  by  the  great  vision  until  their 
little  poet  souls  declared  themselves ;  they, 
too,  would  be  artists  and  create  works  of 
beauty  which  men  should  talk  about  and 
revere,  even  as  they  had  gazed  upon  Dona- 
tello's  mighty  St.  George  and  Orcagna's 
splendid  shrine.  They  did  not  always  suc- 
ceed; "many  are  called,  but  few  are 
cho.sen."  Some  had  sensible,  matter-of-fact 
fathers  who  whipped  them  and  sent  them  to 
bed  or  .seated  them  firmly  upon  a  cobbler's 
bench  and  bade  them  earn  an  honest  living. 
Others  traveled  a  little  way  upon  the  road  to 
fame  and  then  failed,  passing  away  like  Moses, 
with  eyes  ever  fixed  upon  the  promised  land 
which  thev  were  not   to  enter.     And  a  few 


there  were  —  sometimes  those  who  cared  least 
—  who  attained  the  goal.  It  seems  as  though 
this  often  came  about  merely  by  reason  of 
their  love  of  the  work.  It  is  not  likely  that 
these  ' '  little  masters ' '  of  the  renaissance 
were  thinking  greatly  of  posterity  ;  they  were 
just  enjoying  their  art,  dreaming  of  gentle 
Madonnas  and  charming,  chubby  bambinos  ; 
often,  indeed,  they  were  thinking  especially 
of  making  a  living. 

One  of  the  most  delightful  of  the  number 
had  one  of  the  prettiest  names  ;  his  parents 
called  him  Desiderio  —  ' '  the  desired  one  ' '  — 
and,  as  they  lived  in  the  village  of  Settignano, 
a  few  miles  out  of  Florence,  he  was  known  all 
his  life  long  as  Desiderio  of  Settignano. 

He  studied  with  Donatello,  and  had  not 
only  much  talent  but  a  distinct  style  of  his 
own.  When  he  copied  the  work  of  his  famous 
master  he  gave  it  certain  little  peculiarities  of 
treatment  which  are  easily  recognized.  We 
know  his  busts  and  reliefs  to  this  day  by 
means  of  these  "  earmarks." 

The  Madonna  and  Christ-child  was  a  fa- 
vorite theme  at  this  time,  and  the  number 
of  beautiful  variations  of  this  subject  which 
were  produced  is  astonishing.  There  are 
wistful  Madonnas  and  happy  Madonnas  ;  some 
that  are  so  spiritual  that  they  seem  already 
translated,  and  others  so  frankly  human  that 
you  know  they  must  be  likenesses  of  real, 
happy,  earthly  mothers.  The  Christ-child 
varies  likewise,  all  the  way  from  a  pensive, 
sad-eyed  infant  to  a  rollicking  little  Puck,  all 
dimples  and  smiles.  No  doubt  people  differed 
as  much  in  tastes  then  as  now,  and  so  there 
was  a  new  Madonna  for  every  devout  pur- 
chaser. 

Desiderio 's  greatest  work  was  a  wonderful 
tomb  in  the  old  church  of  the  Holy  Cross,  in 
Florence,  a  tomb  most  elaborately  wrought 
with  reliefs  and  angel  figures,  and  finally  the 
solemn  dead  form  of  the  man  who  was  buried 
there  —  a  stately  individual  with  a  name  too 
long  for  the  limits  of  this  article.  His  face 
was  wonderfully  carved,  and  so  were  all  of 
the  portraits  which  this  gentle  artist  produced. 
There  is  one  of  Marietta  Strozzi,  the  daughter 
of  a  famous  house,  which  is  so  much  like  her 
that  you  would  recognize  her  if  you  were  to 
meet  her  on  the  street.  It  is  a  sweet,  amiable 
face,  with  an  expression  which  makes  one  feel 
that  she  is  about  to  speak,  but  it  would  be  in 
old-time  Italian  if  she  did,  so  that  is  all  the 
good  it  would  do  us. 

Then  there  is  little  "  Peter,"  as  I  call  him, 
because  I  do  not  know  his  real  name.  He  Is 
the  cunningest  little  fellow,  with  a  saucy 
round  face.  He  has  a  snub  nose  and  pointed 
upper  lip,  and  ears  that  .stand  out  from  his 
head.  In  .short,  he  is  a  perfect  mother's  dar- 
ling, who  makes  you  smile  every  time  you 
look  at  him.  But  I  shall  never  know  whose 
little  bov  "  Peter  "  was. 


[26] 


XXIII. 


VESUVIUS  must  have  been  an  awe- 
inspiring  sight  recently,  especially 
nights,  yet  some  find  the  mountain's 
sinister  work  at  Pomi)eii  even  more  impres- 
sive. To  many  the  Coliseum  is  the  greatest 
spectacle  in  Italy  ;  others  remember  only  St. 
Peter's,  while  yet  others  find  nothing  to  com- 
pare with  the  grandeur  of  Milan  Cathedral. 
Not  a  few,  however,  will  agree  with  the 
writer  that  they  felt  more  profound  sensations 
in  the  Sistine  Chapel  at  Rome  and  in  the 
Medici  Chapel  at  Florence  than  anywhere  else 
in  all  that  wonderful,  beautiful  land. 

They  are  both  the  work  of  Michelangelo, 
the  greatest  arti.st  of  the  renaissance,  perhaps 
the  greatest  of  all  time.  To  what  other  man 
has  it  been  given  to  create  two  such  sanctu- 
aries as  these  ?  In  the  Sistine  Chapel  one 
sees  the  master's  tremendous  thoughts  ex- 
pressed in  painting.  The  lofty  vault  is  cov- 
ered with  his  sublime  pictures  of  scriptural 
scenes  and  characters,  while  the  end  of  the 
hall  is  like  a  ^^^ndow  opening  into  a  vast  pano- 
rama of  the  "Last  Judgment,"  a  terrible 
vision  sketched  by  an  inexorable  hand. 

In  that  other  chapel,  in  Florence,  we  find 
the  triumphant  work  of  Michelangelo  in  the 
field  which  was  his  own  by  di\nne  right. 
Here  his  scepter  is  the  chisel,  and  his  sway 
is  undisputed.  The  majesty  of  these  giant 
creations  is  almost  overpowering.  Their 
magnificent  bodies  are  indeed  adequate,  but 
upon  us  the  burden  of  their  world-weary 
souls  rests  heavily  —  we  are  no  giants. 

What  a  power  was  his  to  conceive,  to  feel ! 
What  a  gift  to  convey  this  feeling  to  others ! 
No  one  can  enter  that  marble  hall  and  gaze 
\\4thout  a  thrill  of  emotion  upon  the  massive 
forms  of  "Day"  and  "Night,"  of  "Morn- 
ing ' '  and  ' '  Evening. ' '  And  although  we 
know  that  the  sculptor  had  no  thought  of 
portraying  in  the  faces  of  those  two  seated 
warriors  the  features  of  the  unworthy  dukes 
whose  memory  these  monuments  so  disdain- 
fully, yet  so  gloriously,  celebrate,  it  is  im- 
possible not  to  feel  in  them  li\'ing  presences. 
The  * '  Lorenzo ' '  particularly,  which  we  il- 
lustrate here,  is  a  masterpiece  of  suggestion. 
It  is  called  "The  Thinker,"  and  it  is  almost 
impossible  to  divest  one's  self  of  the  feeling 
that  behind  that  gloomy  face  a  round  of  slow- 
revolving  thoughts  is  marking  the  flight  of 
the  ages.  It  was  of  this  head  that  our  ow^n 
Hawthorne  wrote  in  eloquent  words  how  the 
master's  magic  chisel  had  left  the  block  and 
fairly  carved  in  air  the  shadow^'  features, 
seemingly  dependent  no  longer  upon  material. 

The  great  French  sculptor,  Rodin,  once 
said  that  his  idea  of  a  statue  was  the  same  as 
Michelangelo's  —  a  figure  that  could  be  rolled 
down  hill  without  breaking  anything  off. 
See  how  well  the  lines  of  "The  Thinker" 
illustrate  such  an  idea  of  compactness.  As 
the  master  foresaw  the  figure  within  the 
block,  so  we  in  turn  feel  that  there  still  re- 
mains in  the  statue  somewhat  of  the  ma.ss  and 
immobility  of  the  stone.  Quiet  and  self- 
centered  it  is,  yet  full  of  potent  energ>-. 
Michelangelo  never  wished  to  give  his  statues 
motion,  but  he  always  charged  them  with  life 
so  that  they  seem  to  need  but  the  word  in 
order  to  arise  and  use  their  strength. 


How  did  thi.«i  man  become  ro  great?  Who 
shall  say?  Hist  parents  were  not  even  in- 
terested in  art,  his  father  being  bitterly  op- 
jxj.sed  to  his  choice  of  profession.  But  the  boy 
could  not  do  otherwise ;  the  vocation  was  laid 
upon  him ;  a  sculptor  he  w^  to  be.  His 
teachers  were  mediocre  men.  It  mattered 
not;  they  gave  him  what  he  required — the 
use  of  tools.  He  supplied  the  rtjst.  Some 
have  to  learn  painfully,  step  by  step.  His 
was  a  mind  which  leajied,  or  rather  flew,  and 
recognized  at  once  the  best.  All  that  others 
had  done  served  as  his  le.s.Hons ;  their  experi- 
ments were  his  and  he  needed  not  to  do  them 
over  again.  Their  failures  and  faults  he 
avoided,  their  best  [xjints  —  the  poses  of 
Donatello,  the  massing  of  Delia  Quercia  — 
he  adopted  and  made  his  own.  He  began  his 
professional  career  with  the  skill  and  knowl- 


Lorenzo   de  Medici,  by 
Michelangelo 

edge  of  experienced  age  coupled  with   the 
energy'  of  youth. 

At  twentv-five  Michelangelo  had  completed 
his  "Pieta,"  one  of  his  most  perfect  works; 
at  thirty,  his  "  David  "  won  for  him  the  grate- 
ful homage  of  his  native  city  and  made  his 
name  famous  throughout  all  Italy.  Torn  from 
his  favorite  art  and  the  colossal  project  of  the 
tomb  for  St.  Peter's,  and  forced  by  the  whim 
of  an  erratic  ix>pe  to  paint  the  ceiling  of  the 
Sistine  Chajiel.  he  produced  in  this  unfamiliar 
field  the  grandest  decoration  in  the  world, 
doing  the  entire  work  with  his  own  hands. 
Again  and  again  he  returned  to  that  majestic 
vision  of  the  tomb  of  Julius  II.,  only  to  be 
thwarted.  The  struggle  of  those  somber 
years  has  been  called  "The  Tragedy  of  the 
Tomb."  Later  came  these  other  tombs, 
destined  like  most  of  his  works  to  remain  un- 
finished. But  what  splendid  fragments  they 
are !  It  is  a  liberal  education  to  know  these 
sculptures  and  their  stor>'. 


[27] 


XXIV. 


THE  majesty  of  Greek  art,  the  charm  of 
the  early  renaissance  and  the  sublimity 
of  Michelangelo  take  hold  of  us  so 
strongly  that  we  are  in  danger  of  forgetting 
that  other  men  in  other  times  loved  beauty  as 
ardently  as  did  the  Greeks  and  their  descend- 
ants. Other  nations  have  glorified  their  God 
with  an  art  as  sumptuous  and,  in  its  way,  as 
exquisite.  Long  before  the  renaissance  had 
awakened  classic  sculpture  from  its  long  sleep 
the  fierce  Northmen  had  perfected  the  style  of 
architecture  which  we  call  "Gothic."  It  did 
not  come  all  at  once,  but  was  the  result  of 
centuries  of  experiment.  In  the  thirteenth 
century  it  burst  into  full  bloom,  and  northern 
France  and  England  were  covered  with  the 
splendor  of  it.     This  is  .not  the  place   to  de- 


the  historv  of  France  —  at'least  a  small  portion 
of  it.  ' 

The  panel  which  we  show  below  represents 
the  famous  meeting  of  Francis  I.  and  Henry 
VIII.  of  England  on  "The  Field  of  the  Cloth 
of  Gold."  Even  the  carving  gives  some  hint 
of  the  gorgeousness  of  the  scene.  It  is  inter- 
esting to  note  how  differently  horses  and 
riders  are  treated  here  from  those  which  we 
saw  in  the  Parthenon  frieze.  This  relief  seems 
more  like  some  of  those  old  Assyrian  sculp- 
tures, all  full  of  "  upholstery." 

The  occasion  which  brought  these  distin- 
guished royal  gentlemen  together  was  the 
making  of  a  treaty,  but  they  did  not  take  this 
too  seriously,  and  there  were  various  diver- 
sions to  make  the  time  pass  pleasantly.     ' '  For 


—  -  -iv^r* 


^ '  ^i  4^. .  4^1  VV^^  1' 


,.J^  "  y. 


■/:  r>' 


Meeting  of  Henry  VIII.  and  Francis  I.  at  the  Field  of  the  Cloth  of  Gold 


scribe  those  glorious  cathedrals  which  all  at 
once  began  to  climb  heavenward  from  a  hun- 
dred cities,  and  which  still  vie  with  one  an- 
other in  their  4izzy  heights  and  in  their 
magnificence.  They  were  jeweled  over  with 
rich  sculpture  ;  the  pious  workmen  seemed  to 
fairly  breathe  their  prayers  into  the  stone. 

When  the  cathedrals  were  done,  the  sculp- 
tors turned  to  the  decoration  of  private  build- 
ings, and  .many  a  palatial  structure  was  so 
richly  decorated  by  the  skilful  French  carvers 
of  the  fifteenth  and  sixteenth  centuries  that 
its  surface  can  be  compared  to  nothing  but 
embroidery.  No  city  has  preserved  so  much 
of  the  quaint,  old-time  flavor  as  Rouen,  where, 
in  treading  the  narrow  streets,  one  can  almost 
imagine  himself  in  a  mediaeval  city.  Among 
the  interesting  buildings  there  is  the  vener- 
able "Hotel  Bourgtheroulde,"  which,  al- 
though built  about  four  hundred  years  ago,  is 
still  used  as  a  banking-house.  One  wanders 
into  the  courtyard  and  is  lost  in  amazement 
at  the  reliefs  which  cover  the  entire  walls. 
Some  are  scriptural  in  subject ;  some  illustrate 


ten  days  the  two  sovereigns  fought  five  com- 
bats every  day,  and  always  beat  their  polite 
antagonists, ' '  says  Dickens  in  his  chatty  his- 
tory. No  doubt  everybody  was  happy  and 
well  repaid,  for  those  were  days  when  people 
loved  such  spectacular  doings.  We  are  told 
that  ' '  many  of  the  knights  and  gentlemen 
were  so  superbly  dressed  that  it  is  said 
they  carried  their  whole  estates  upon  their 
shoulders."  Some  people  have  been  known 
to  do  that  same  thing  in  later  times,  but  their 
prodigal  splendors  have  not  been  recorded 
upon  tablets  of  stone  for  all  the  world  to 
see  ! 

Too  bad  it  was  that  the  treaty  which  cost  so 
much  was  promptly  broken,  but  then  it  matters 
little  to-day,  since  all  who  cared  are  gone,  and 
all  who  shared  in  that  brilliant  tournament 
have  been  asleep  these  hundreds  of  years. 
They  are  dust  along  with  the  "  silk  tents  and 
the  gold  foil  and  lace, ' '  along  with  ' '  the  carpets 
and  the  gilt  lions."  Naught  remains  of  the 
glories  of  the  ' '  Field  of  the  Cloth  of  Gold, ' ' 
save  the  relief  on  the  old  gray  wall  in  Rouen. 


[28] 


XXV. 


THERE  was  no  danger  of  mistaking;  that 
relief  from  Rouen  for  a  slab  of  the  Par- 
thenon frieze,  but  most  of  my  young 
readers  will  feel  sure  that  \vc  luive  gone  back 
to  classic  art  now,  and  main  older  i>co])le 
cannot  distinguish  between  the  originals  and 
these  clever  imitations  by  a  modern  man. 
Bertel  Thorwaldsen,  who  made  the  frieze, 
"The  Triiini])!!  of  Alexander,"  came  nearer 
to  the  classic  spirit  than  did  any  of  his  contem- 
poraries, but  still  he  missed  it  by  a  good  deal 
—  just  as  every  conscious  imitator  must  miss 
the  real  spirit  of  things.  He  was  a  genuis  all 
the  same,  if  ever  there  was  one,  for  this  illit- 
erate son  of  a  poor  wood  carver  became  the 
mostrenowned  sculptor  of  his  time. 

Thorwaldsen  was  born  in  Copenhagen  in 
1770.  His  father's  work  was  the  carving  of 
wooden  figureheads  for  merchant  vessels. 
The   boy  may  have   inherited  his  talent,  or. 


simple  fell  in  love  with  ancient  sculpture  and 
imitated  it  as  well  as  he  knew  how. 

His  work  soon  Ijecame  very  |H>pular  and  he 
made  statues  and  groujw  for  many  noblemen 
of  various  countries.  One  of  his  most  cele- 
brated works  is  the  great  **  Lion  of  Lucerne," 
a  gigantic  lion  carved  in  a  rocky  hillside  in 
Lucerne,  Switzerland,  to  commemorate  the 
brave  Swiss  guard  of  the  French  revolution. 

At  one  time  (1812)  Na|K>leon  was  ex{)ected 
in  Rome,  and  great  preparations  were  made 
to  welcome  the  awesome  gue.st.  Among  other 
decorations  Thorwaldsen  bethought  him  of  a 
great  frieze  in  the  style  of  the  Parthenon,  to 
embellish  one  of  the  halls  of  the  royal  palace. 
The  enormous  work  —  over  one  hundred  and 
fifteen  feet  in  length  and  four  feet  high  —  was 
done  in  great  haste,  bbt  was  .so  succes.sful  that 
it  has  been  reproduced  several  times  in  marble. 
The  subject  chosen  by  the  sculptor  was  appro- 


Section  of  Triumph  o(  Alexander 
By  Thorwaldsen 


rather,  his  inclination,  toward  sculpture  from 
the  family  tradition  of  the  shop.  They  say  he 
was  a  pretty  child,  with  blue  eyes  and  light 
hair,  and  that  he  was  of  gentle  and  timid  dis- 
position. He  was  not  a  brilliant  student 
except  in  drawing  and  modeling.  In  these 
departments  he  began  taking  medals  while  a 
mere  boy,  and  he  kept  on  taking  them  until 
he  finally  won  the  highest  reward  offered  by 
the  Danish  schools  —  the  * '  grand  prize  of 
sculpture,"  and  a  pension  for  further  study  in 
Italv.  He  had  become  something  of  a  dreamer, 
but  his  visit  to  the  land  of  art  started  him 
anew.  His  arrival  in  Rome  was  to  him  the 
opening  of  a  new  life.  "  I  was  born  on  the 
8th  of  March,  1797, "  he  u.sed  to  say.  ' '  Before 
that  I  did  jiot  exist."  The  ancient  statues  ap- 
pealed to  him  with  an  indescribable  fascination. 
The  celebratied  Italian  sculptor,  Canova, 
was  living  at  t^at  time,  and  he  gave  the 
honest  voung  man  a  cordial  welcome.  He 
probably  did  not  suspect  that  his  modest 
visitor  was  destined  to  overshadow  even  his 
great  fame.  Canova's  art  was  inclined  to  the 
theatrical,  but  Thorwald-sen  was  not  contami- 
nated bv  the  traditions  of  modern  Italy ;   he 


priate  :  ' '  The  Triumphant  Entry  of  Alexander 
Into  Babylon." 

The  slab  which  we  show  represents  the 
chariot  of  Alexander  with  its  dashing  steeds, 
conducted  by  a  winged  Victory.  The  hero, 
with  si^ear  in  hand,  turns  back  to  glance  at 
the  advancing  column  of  soldiers.  The.se  fol- 
low in  great  numbers  and  are  very  ingeniously 
grouped  —  horsemen  and  f(K)t  sfildiers  and  even 
an  elephant.  Then  from  the  other  side  advance 
the  hosts  of  the  vancjuished  with  gifts.  They 
are  led  by  the  Goddess  of  Peace,  bearing  an 
olive  branch.  The  whole  thing  is  a  beautiful 
conception,  harmonious  and  impressive.  It  is 
not  modern  in  either  subject  or  treatment,  but 
it  is  good  .sculpture. 

After  Thorwald.sen's  death  a  mu.seum  of  all 
his  works  was  established  in  his  native  city. 
It  is  an  interesting  collection  and  gives  <me 
an  idea  of  the  .sculptor's  happy  indu.stry.  In 
the  center  of  this  building  is  a  little  oi>en 
court,  where  under  the  green  turf  the  gentle 
artist  is  buried.  It  is  a  peaceful  spot,  a  sacred 
shrine ;  one  likes  to  think  of  him  slumbering 
there,  surrounded  by  all  of  his  beautiful,  white 
dream-children. 


[29] 


Six  Views  of  Schoolrooms,  Showing  Decorations 


Stage  of  Assembly  Hall,  East  Boston  High  School,  East  Boston,  Mass. 


Greek  Room,  Newton  High  School,  Newtonville,  Mass. 

This  room  has  part  of  the  Parthenon  frieze,  placed  above  the  blackboards,  between 

the  doors  and  windows 


[30] 


Greek  Room,  Phillips  Elxeter  Academy,  Elxeter,  N,  H. 

The  statue  of  Apollo  in  this  room  is  of  the  original  size,  7  feet  6  inches  in  height, 
standing  on  a  pedestal  2  feet  high 


English  Room,  Phillips  Exeter  Academy.  Exeter.  N.  H. 

The  statue  of  the  Faun  (Hawthorne)  is  of  the  original  size,  6  feet  3  Inches  in  height, 

standing  on  a  pedestal  about  2  feet  high.    The  busts  of  English  authors 

on  brackets  above  the  blackboard  are  life  size 


[31] 


Assembly  Hall,  Bigelow  Grammar  School,  Newton,  Mass. 

The  frieze  shown  in  this  illustration  is  half  of  the  Cantoria  frieze  by  Luca  della  Robbia, 
set  in  a  wooden  frame.     The  remaining  ha#is  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  room. 


Assembly  Hall,  Pierce  Grammar  School,   Brookline,   iMass. 

This  hall  has  three  large  statues,  full  size  —  Niobe  and  Daughter  in  the  center  of  the  stage, 

Minerva  and  Diana  at  each  side  of  the  stage.     The  rear  of  the  hall  has  a  bust  on 

bracket  between  each  window   and  a  frieze  of  the  Parthenon  is  at 

each  side  of  the  hall,  extending  the  entire  length. 


[32] 


